


Under the Black Flag

by AlgoDeMi



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: An Experienced Pirate Reader, F/M, Minor Character Death, Original Character Death(s), Reader-Insert, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-07 21:18:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 48,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10369632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlgoDeMi/pseuds/AlgoDeMi
Summary: Life had anoddway of bringing (Y/N) to Captain Kenway. She never realized until later that it was one of the most perilous, yet magnificent, gifts that life had in store for her.





	1. Rum and Cannons

**Author's Note:**

> this story is very focused on the reader, delving into their background, thoughts, and emotions throughout the story. this story is also focused on their eventual relationship with the lovely edward kenway. the first two chapters will be an introduction to the reader and their life, until their inevitable meeting with edward.
> 
> i hope you all enjoy!

#  Chapter 1 

**Rum and Cannons**

The ship jolted violently as they were struck by another cannonball. A few curses and shrieks came from the direction of impact, and she hoped that the men weren’t seriously injured. They didn’t have much of medical supplies left after their previous battle anyways.

She approached one of her fellow sailors, taking him by the shoulder and throwing him aside, resuming his place in mounting the cannon. She knew she had better aim than the lad, so she took the intuitive to make sure they didn’t get blown to pieces.

Heaving the heavy artillery, she waited for the other men to load up. Her arms were gripping the cannon tightly, making sure it didn’t slip from her fingers at the wrong moment. Just holding the damn thing was making her arms sore, and (Y/N) wasn’t a beginner when it came to weights. She could arm-wrestle the best pirates around, with their tattooed arms and scarred, calloused skin. Nothing seemed to intimidate her when it came to a weight contest.

“Ready!”

They raised their cannons, aiming them to hit a specific location on the ship. (Y/N) scanned the distant enemy, its mast looking quite unstable. It looked as if one slight blow of wind could topple the thing over. She contemplated hitting it, knowing they would be stuck in that location without their main mast. However, (Y/N)’s colored eyes locked on the jackpot. The main deck. 

Her planks were ruined, splintering in all directions, leaving a gaping hole in the ship where most of the main deck occupied. Inside the exposed chambers, bustling sailors clamoring about were seen. (Y/N) pitied them. She pitied the ship more, though. She was quite a fine beauty and she deserved a better end. (Y/N) would’ve wished to see her on a good day, but fate struck against that chance.

“Fire!”

In seconds, the row of cannons exploded in a harsh boom, shaking the air around them. (Y/N) straightened her back and craned her neck to watch their shots to impact. By all Gods, it was catastrophic.

The enemy sailor’s screams were bone-chilling, as one of the cannonball pierced almost straight through the bottom chambers of the ship. They heard the groaning of wood, reminiscent of when a large tree is being chopped and forced down. It wasn’t a tree being dragged down by its own will, but a once mighty mast that slowly made its way into the clear blue waves beneath them. (Y/N) caught the result of her own cannonball, which further destroyed the main deck -- or what was left of it anyways. There was no deck for that ship anymore. 

They watched as some sailors deciding to jump overboard as the great beast cracked and broke apart before them. Planks spread apart noisily, and the stern was drowning, disconnecting itself from the rest of the ship. If it were alive, would it be spluttering for help? Would it have the similar cowardice of a man who fears death? 

No. It was a fine beast that one was. If it were a person, it would accept its inevitable fate. It would have to come sometime, anyways. She, herself, wouldn’t hesitate to think in that way. She was a damn pirate, death loomed over her head like a heavy cloud on a thunderous day. Yet, it was still peculiar to her to see such a wondrous thing meet its end. To (Y/N), giant beings are supposed to be invincible. They are supposed to own the world with their magnificence and intimidation. But alas, it goes to show that anything can be defeated. She gulped.

They watched in collective silence as their enemy was nothing more than a sunken ship. She hadn’t realized her mouth had parted at the sight of such a spectacular show. She had seen many ships sunk before, but never of that size. It felt better of a victory, to have met an opponent equal in strength and taking them down. It made her feel good. If she were anyone else, it would’ve begun to inflate her already big ego. But she knew better than that. One of them had to die for the other to survive, and she respected the crew and captain of the enemy ship for that. Life wasn’t fair for those poor men today, but when is it ever fair?

She looked over to see her crewmates whooping and shouting victorious claims, balling their fists and raising them high. Their chapped lips spread wide with glee as they hugged tightly and slapped each other hard on the back. She watched in curiosity, narrowing her eyes and tilting her head slightly. Men had an odd way of showing off to each other. From what she has seen, they like to prove who is the strongest amongst them frequently, whether it were through contests, or good, old-fashioned brawls in which multiple men were knocked out cold by its end. Her crew was no different, but who the hell could blame the poor bastards? Winning against another poor bloke can help keep a man sane. It proves they’re worth something in this endless game of egotistical greed for one’s own self-gain. That small grain of hope can help flourish something in the man again. The illusion of power. 

She jumped ever-so slightly when a rough hand landed on her shoulder. She turned her head to see the left-sided face of her captain, a thin smile on his face, re-creasing his face’s wrinkles again. The man’s eyes were bright for a person so dark. They matched the sea in beauty and color. They were mesmerizing, yet they were growing duller through the months. When (Y/N) had met the old man five years ago, his eyes were the only thing that made her appreciate his presence. Not his voice, nor the way he spoke, or how he stood. (Y/N) found strange beauty in the smallest of things, and in this case, it was his damned eyes. 

O blessed they be to contain a beauty such thee. They creased joyfully when he smiled. Slight bags under his eyelids were even more visible as well. She could see them now, and it sparked a slight half-grin of her own. He shook her proudly, when a man does when his son kills his first deer. When a woman does when her daughter masters a particular dance in the ballroom. She sighed.

“Aye. We did it, lass.” He started. His gravelly, accented voice was close to her ear. Close enough that she could smell the man’s scent next to her. One sniff and it was like snorting seawater itself. The salt and the smell of fish reeked him, but in a comforting way. She didn’t find it disgusting, maybe for the fact that she’s smelled it on herself as well. She liked it because she is reminded that these men have a connection with the sea that no average person could possibly understand. Hell, sometimes she didn’t know what allured men to the deadly, cruel waters. There was beauty in it, aye, but also a great danger. She knew she didn’t comprehend well just yet. Maybe when the smell of the sea lingered in her trail like it did for Captain Vayne would she truly know what it’s like to be part of the great blue.

“Taking down a Spanish ship, aye. We did.” (Y/N) replied, slowly nodding. She adjusted her dark hat over her head, taking its edges and firmly bringing it farther down her forehead, a mere inch above her eyebrows. Only wisps of her (Y/H/C) hair managed to peek out from underneath. She kept her ringlet locks tied up and shoved inside her hat. Now and then, they made an appearance to remind her and the men around her who she truly was; a lady-pirate. “It might have been an important boat. Too late to loot it now, half the bloody thing is swimming with the fish now.”

“We don’t need to loot the Spanish, lass.” He let out a throaty laugh, one that caused her to give him a raised-browed look. “They were just in our way.”

(Y/N)’s shoulders drooped. She would’ve enjoyed it if they had fought for a more gallant reason, in all honesty. Her eyes drifted away from her captain, glazing off to observe the seas ahead. It was a clear day, an island in the distance with three tall palm trees in its midst. She could taste the Caribbean air with one whiff, so full of freedom and new opportunities. If only the Spanish and the British could leave the isles alone, then it could be a perfect place to call home. (Y/N) never knew what it felt like to have a true home. All she knew were her two older brothers, her deceitful father, and her elegant mother. She missed them, yes, but she never wanted to see them again.

“Answer me honestly, Capt’n.” (Y/N) wet her lips, tasting salt and dryness all at once. “Where are we truly heading now?”

The Captain let out a deep exhale through his nose. She could hear it. The more she stared at him, the more she realized how much of an enigma Lindell Vayne truly was. She knows the basics about the man; his age, his previous occupation prior, his family. Yet, she couldn’t understand why the man’s face could be so emotionless at times. He smiled, laughed, even joked of course. But the other times, he was completely serious; only he and his thoughts. (Y/N) became an expert at reading people’s emotions through their actions and words. Captain Vayne made her think deeply when trying to decipher his, to exercise her critical thinking skills like she did as a child. She pondered at times if the man is just truly unreadable, so cold that only a crude joke could awaken his spirit. Or maybe, he had figured out all of her tricks.

“We’re heading to Kingston, lass. After we’re done there, we’re going to Havana.” 

Her dreamy-eyed gaze returned. She looked to the horizon, letting out a soft breath out of her open mouth. She had always wondered what Havana looked like. What it felt like to step foot on those dusty streets, the dark-skinned people singing their tunes on the sides of taverns. She thought of Havana as the epitome of the Caribbean. Fine music, exotic people, and the perfect place to get a quick drink whilst the bars sprung in delight, whether it were day or night. You don’t get that luxury in Spain, nor Britain. God, were the tropics a charm.

“But first, we must celebrate our vain victory! Come along, (Y/N), or you’ll miss the drink!” Her captain called to her as he made his way to the lower deck, where the rest of the crew had begun to get horribly drunk. She watched him depart and disappear down the stairs, hurrying to join the lads and getting a drink in. Once he was gone, she took the moment to reflect. She headed towards the ship’s railing, leaning over it and cherishing the feeling of the open sea. Before she left her home, she had never seen the ocean before. Now, it became a part of her life. She had befriended wonderful men, thoughtless drunken brutes who she loved dearly. 

One of her most trusted advisors wasn’t an actual sailor just yet, but they were around the same age. He had joined the pirate life later than she had. Right now, he served as the chef hand. 

The sounds of loud, clamoring laughter and the harsh clash of wooden cups redirected her thoughts towards the lower decks. Part of her wanted to stay up above and watch them pass by the smaller islands, to gaze at the skies above, and to connect with the feel of the Caribbean. The other part of her needed a hard drink in her system. The brief battle drained her.

She pushed herself off the railing and headed down. The closer she got, the more laughs and slurred phrases thrown together did she hear. She descended down the creaky stairs, adjusting her hat as she went, and arrived in the dingy, dim-lit, yet incredibly joyful scene that was the lower deck. These men were able to turn even the most insignificant rooms into a tavern setting. Barrels were used as chairs, and sacks full of coffee beans were stacked up to create an unstable surface to place drinks on. Empty chests from previous lootings were used to store bottles of rum. She walked over to one and gingerly held it by its neck. She found her seat next to her crewmate, Samuel Jennings, or as the whole crew called him, Tib.

Tib was older than her by a decade, but he sure didn’t act like it. He acted as she once did when she was 15. Naive, dim-witted, careless, unreasonably happy. At times she can’t bear him, but he reminds her of what she used to be like. If life hadn’t hit her as hard as it did, she would probably be acting like him even now. He reminded her of that innocent happiness. Although his personality said one thing, the man was no weakling. His name was the shortened version of ‘Tiburon’, which meant ‘shark’ in Spanish. (Y/N) had given him the name when they watched in horror as Tib wrestled a shark that was almost his height in length. He held its snout with one hand, pulling it back as he punched the thing as hard as he could in its eyes or gills or wherever else was in his reach. One of the crewmates was able to shoot the shark, killing it, and (Y/N) had christened him with the new name. Most of the men couldn’t pronounce Tiburon properly, so in a drunken stupor, they simplified it to Tib.

When she sat, they immediately clinked their bottles together. In unison, they brought the brown liquid up to their lips. (Y/N) took in a mouthful, the unforgettable taste of the liquor filling her senses with bliss. She always preferred rum over any other drink. Her favorite type was the ones they looted from the Royal British Navy. The bastards always had a large, distinctive stash of golden rum hidden away somewhere in their kitchens, and (Y/N) was the unassigned ‘rum finder’ for the crew. She had the best taste around, and she had been drinking since the age of 14. She was the most experienced when it came to distinguishing the good rum from the worser ones.

“Anyone injured, Tib?” She questioned, the bottle’s rim resting on her lower lip. Tib let out a belch, his lips forming an ‘o’ shape and blowing out the rum-stenched air that he emitted. She grimaced slightly to herself.

“Naw, not that I ‘eard.” He spoke with a thick Welsh accent. He slurred over most of his words and sentences, and (Y/N) couldn’t tell if he were drunk or if it were his normal way of speaking. She had to guess what he was saying most of the time, anyways. “Them Spanish blokes sleepin’ with the bloody fish tonigh’.” He took another swig of beverage, as (Y/N) listened in silence, watching as the men around her downed their drinks and slammed the empty cups, demanding more. Some even tossed the cups at each other’s heads. She caught glimpses of the captain speaking with Klaus, the Dutch quartermaster they hired when they landed in Europe ages ago. He was a calm one, wasn’t a sloppy drunk, and kept his nose in his own business. (Y/N) didn’t exchange much with him, but they reciprocated respect for each other. 

“Captain says we heading to Kingston.” (Y/N) commented, looking to Tib for his reaction. He snorted, laughing into the opening of his bottle.

“Kingston, aye? Haven’t been there in bloody ages, mate.”

She furrowed her brows. “You’ve been to Kingston, Tib?”

Tib put his empty bottle on the ground and kicked it lightly, letting it roll away from them, thanks to the movement of the ship. “Ye. Once when I was barely a scoundrel. A good-for-nothin’ young lad were I. I thieved and whored, drunk and lied. If I ever owned an ounce of so-called ‘dignity’, I lost them shits in seconds, lass.” (Y/N) laughed, looking down at her boots. She tapped the floor, drowning out all of the other men’s voices and focusing on Tib’s. “I landed in Kingston when I was around your own age, lass. 20 or so years. I landed for some peculiar reasons, savvy? I was searchin’ for… a new lass to court, let’s say. I rested at the nearest tavern I saw, and in there, I met the finest girl to ever grace the lands…” He sent her a smirk. “Aside from yourself.”

“You’re making me blush.” She fanned her face with her left hand, mocking the way the noble ladies would do it with theirs of fabric. She pretended to swoon, sending Tib into a fit of hiccuping laughter. He pushed her away by the shoulder, almost falling off the barrel she was sitting on. She smiled widely, showing off her fine set of teeth.

“Back to the story, lassy. The woman was named… Lucinda. A fancy name for a fancy girl, if I must say. She was beautiful. She was differen’ from all the girls you see roamin’ back at home, ya know? With their posh manners and swinish eyes. She was special, and I liked tha’ ‘bout ‘er. About my height, with long black hair that reached down to her back. She had dark eyes, and the skin to match it. She spoke good English for a foreign woman. She was classy and witty and she made me feel things I never felt before,” Tib elaborated, his voice lowering down to a whisper. To hear him better, she skidded her barrel closer to his, plopping down onto the seat and leaning her back against the wall behind them. “I spent all my nights with her, lass. My 25 days on Kingston, I had her in my arms each night. Gods, lass. She was a beauty, a’right. A’right a’right, indeeed.”

“Sounds like she was a fine lady, Tib. You’re lucky. Not much of ‘em are left around here.” She mumbled, drinking the last of her rum.

“Aye. I was lucky. And I ruined it all. Instead of stayin’ with her… I let her go. I could’ve settled with ‘er. Had a true life. I had enough coin at the time to do whatever the bloody ‘ell I wanted,” He hiccuped, his drooped shoulders rising and falling quickly. “Instead… I chose the pirate’s life. My brothers… The tainted, crooked, terrible ol’ lot o’ em. I chose them because I was taught that ya friends will always stick with ya like clay to water.. But some days, I wonder if I was just feedin’ myself a lie to deal wit’ the guilt a bit betta.”

(Y/N) swallowed thickly to moisten her throat. The rum was making her throat feel scratchy. “Is she still alive, Tib?”

“I reckon. When I left Kingston so did she. Don’t know where she went, and I’ll probably never see her trail again, no matter how much I dream to.”

(Y/N) leaned her head against his shoulder. She hadn’t known Tib suffered from love before. By his demeanor, she wouldn’t have guessed Tib had suffered at all in his life. And by the sounds of it, he hasn’t gotten over it. She frowned, her knitted brows growing even closer. “She was… the one that got away, innit?”

“Naw, lass. She wasn’t the one that got away. She was the one I failed to keep.” Tib whispered to her. She could hear the heartbreak in his voice, and in turn, caused hers to sink with his. She wasn’t old enough to have experienced a love as passionate as that. She prayed that she wouldn’t face the same torment he had when it came to leaving the one you loved. 

“And you think about it?”

“Frequently. When I get hammered, ye. Quite frankly, after an experience like tha’... you can’t find the same energy to love another again. You devote all to them… and in my case, I let it all die in vain. A love like that is one you cherish… One you get in a lifetime. The worst part ‘bout it all is that she wanted me to stay. She begged, pleaded, even in her native language. Even if I didn’t understand most of her words… I knew what they meant in my heart.” Tib swallowed thickly. “I had a decision to stay with a one-time love or continue with my life-long love of being a pirate. I gave up a potentially happy life… for a temporarily pleasant one that doesn’t last for shit. Maybe if I weren’t so full of rum and tales of old glory all the time, I would’ve had a clearer mind back then to make the right choice.” He let out a quick breathy laugh, then his stoic expression returned, hardening his voice. “Don’t ever fall in love, lass. It’s pointless.”

She straightened herself up as Tib got up drowsily, stumbling a few steps. (Y/N) watched helplessly as he used the wall to guide him to the men’s quarters. His sorrow affected her greatly. Even though the laughter and jokes around her could’ve easily brightened her mood, she couldn’t help but keep looking towards the direction he went. Her heart went out to him, even if it wouldn’t ease his pain. 

She took his words to heart, mindlessly reaching for the chest full of rum, pulling out another and downing it. She wasn’t even savoring the taste anymore. It was her favorite rum, yet she was downing it not for the pleasure, but to forget the pain. Tib’s story made her think about her own life. She was scared of falling in love. She always has been. Every time a sailor told her a story about love, she felt more and more certain that it was the wrong path to take. 

She tossed her empty bottle to the floor and made her way to her own quarters for the rest of the day. The sun was still shining, but she didn’t care. She wanted to sleep off the impending headaches to come.

She was better off by herself. And her favorite rum wasn’t tasting the same anymore.


	2. O Beautiful Kingston

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have the next chapter ready to go once i have finished editing and revising it all. this chapter still focuses on the reader and their life at sea. i also added into the chapter the sea shanty 'farewell and adieu to you spanish ladies' as one of the songs the reader and their crew sings. it's a nice, passionate shanty and i recommend it to you guys if you would like to hear it.
> 
> enjoy! <3

#  Chapter 2 

**O Beautiful Kingston**

 

She awoke with a pillow smacked against her tousled (Y/H/C) hair. With her eyes still closed, believing to still be in a dream, she sniffled, readjusted her position, and began drifting back to sleep. That’s when another blow to the head jolted her awake.

She groaned so loud that the skies could hear her. “Leave me the hell alone, wouldya?” She stated to whoever was hitting her. Her eyes were clamped shut, her forefinger and thumb pressing the ridge of her nose. The rum she drank last night was coming back to her, and the blistering headache was one she desperately wanted to sleep off. 

“Why, I didn’t know the great pirate (Y/N) (Y/L/N) took breaks?” The voice asked sarcastically. (Y/N) slowly opened her weary eyes to look up at Scotty. The chef hand lad she had thought about the night prior. She bared her teeth at him.

“I don’t, you bloody bastard.” She replied, observing him from underneath. He stood proudly, two tanned arms crossed over his chest. He wore a sleeveless shirt and leather vest, baggy black pants with his beloved belt wrapped around his waist. (Y/N) looked up to meet his dark-eyed gaze. He had slight dark circles underneath his eyes, some days they were more visible than others. Short brown hair covered his scalp, with messy tufts sticking up in some areas. Hair like feathers. She raised a fisted hand and hit his thigh with it, causing him to move back a bit. She sat up in her bed and stretched her back. “Is breakfast ready, lad?”

“Oh, you think that if it weren’t I would be ‘ere?” He asked, rolling his eyes at her. She shrugged teasingly, flashing him a toothy grin. She reached under her bed for her attire for the day, which consisted of a billowy white shirt, an ornate brown coat covering her sleeves, black pants, and knee-high dark boots. She looked up at Scotty with an accusatory glare. 

“You’re going to watch, pretty boy?”

His eyes widened and he immediately turned around, staring at the wall. (Y/N) held back a laugh, and she quickly began to get dressed.

“Are we almost to Kingston? I want to sleep on an actual bed sometimes,” (Y/N) remarked, pulling on her coat. She heard Scotty scoff, and she looked up to stare into his back.

“I would give my day’s meal to sleep in one of your beds. Why, the cook’s quarters are beds of stones, I swear by it,” Scotty replied, indignancy hinted at his tone. (Y/N) furrowed her brows, finishing dressing herself and strapping on her sword to its holsters. She began wrapping her (Y/H/C) hair up to the top of her head, its thickness and curls making it hard to do so. Scotty turned around to look at her bird’s nest perched on her scalp. He chuckled, leaning backwards onto the wall. “(Y/N), why don’t you wear ya hair down? There’s nothin’ to hide now that everyone knows you're a lady,”

(Y/N) would love to wear her hair down. It would be a lot more comfortable for her and she wouldn’t feel a weight above her everyday, hidden by her hat. But alas, she continued to gather up all of her hair, and placed her hat firmly over it. She patted it down and met Scotty’s narrowed-eye gaze. “‘Cause I don’t want to feel like a lady,”

She made her way past him, heading towards the upper decks. The brief conversation with Scotty had made her forget about her headache, but now that the two of them were silent, it returned to bug her senses again. She grimaced, massaging her temples as she ascended the stairs, Scotty on her heels. 

When they made it above, (Y/N) felt the saltiness of the ocean in the air. The rocks of the ship were sending spouts of water up at them occasionally, splashing the decks and whoever was standing near them. (Y/N) looked around at the surroundings, trying to guess where they were.

“You got any idea where the bloody hells we are right now, Scott?” She whispered to him, craning her neck to try and see the front of the ship. 

“Bloody hells would I know. I’m the damn chef hand, (Y/N). You forget?” Scotty shook his head at her. “I barely know how to swim properly, let alone know how to sail the seven seas.” (Y/N), amused by his response, only smiled at him instead of whacking his head in. Scotty was the only person around her age on the ship, and she was able to act foolish with him at times. They would play silly card games, bet on the wildest of things, play drinking contests, and she was able to confide with him about whatever was on her mind. Scotty was an adorable, cheeky miracle. Witty, too.

“Wouldn’t hurt to know a bit of cartography and geography, lad.” She bluffed, heading towards the rails to see if staring out and hearing the calming waves of the sea would relax her head a bit. Scotty leaned on the rails next to her, blowing out air through puffed cheeks. (Y/N) squished his cheeks with her hand, pressing out all of the air he had in his mouth. She laughed like a child at the sound he made, his eyes side-glancing to her to watch her expression. He couldn’t help but laugh out loud with her.

“Well why don’t you teach me something?” He challenged, raising a thick brow at her. (Y/N) wet her lips, tasting the salt and the ragged texture of her broken lips for being out at sea so long. The sun’s constant heat on her didn’t help, rather take away even more moisture.

(Y/N) tilted her head at him, at first confused by his request. “Pardon, Scotty?”

“Ya heard me right the first time, lass.” He motioned out to the islands and the waters. “Teach me about the seas and the ships and the things you pirates all seem to know.” 

(Y/N) chewed on the inside of her cheek, her eyes darting around to find a topic to teach the naive boy about. After a moment of pondering, she nodded towards the skies, looking at the almost-clear blue canvas above them. Scotty looked up as well, confused on what they were looking at.

“What?”

“Up there.” (Y/N) prompted, and Scotty continued to stare, wondering if he was missing something, or he was just blind. “You’re seeing blue, aren’t you?”

“Well, the sky is blue, ain’t it, lass? I hope you don’t tell me you pirates see green.”

(Y/N) shook her head, laughing out through her nostrils. “No, lad, we see our colors fine. It’s what we see past the colors that matters most to us when sailing the seas.” When Scotty gave her a skeptical look, she began to go into further detail, making vivid hand motions and raising her voices during exciting parts. “When you look up at the sky during the day, ya see blue… white clouds… the sun, things like that, yeah?” Scotty nodded. “Well, what do you see when you look up during the night, lad?”

Scotty thought for a moment, knitting his brows and biting his lower lip. “Ya see the moon and the stars, don’t you?”

“That’s right. The millions of stars that the sky contains durin’ the night. The moon, if ya didn’t know, controls the sea.” 

Scotty’s eyes went wide with curiosity. “How the hell does it do that? The thing’s is in a whole ‘nother galaxy, ain’t it?”

“No, Scotty, the moon is closer to us than ya think. I don’t know how the moon controls the waters either, believe me, but it just do. Something involving the pull and push of something. I didn’t pay that much attention durin’ my lessons,” She joked, laughing silently to herself. “Anyways, the stars are important to us pirates. Those little lights in the skies help us during travels, if ya didn’t know.”

“You lot be using stars as maps?” Scotty questioned incredulously. “No wonder. That’s why all of you pirates are bloody mad most of the time.”

“Aye.” (Y/N) nodded, looking to her friend, as she rested her two arms horizontally next to each other on the rail. “Bloody mad. But we’re also bloody geniuses, mate. The stars don’t change their place in the skies most of the time, lad, unless we’re in winter. Winter fucks up everything, ya know that.” Scotty let out a huff of agreement. “But during normal nights, when we look up at the skies, we choose one star as our north, another as our west, another as our south, and the last one for the east. When you memorize ya stars well and good, you use them as ya sky compass, mate!”

She roughly pat Scotty on the shoulder in excitement as he still tried to wrap his mind around the idea. (Y/N), though as cold and unemotional as she may be sometimes, can easily get entertained by the ideas of the stars and the moon and the sun. When she was child, she loved the stories her mother would tell her about the night and all of its wonders. But now as a pirate, even though she doesn’t focus much on it as she would like to, she occasionally looks up at the skies at night, thinking of how life would be so much more wondrous if it were just her and the night. She shuddered at the idea. 

“A sky compass.” Scotty repeated, raising both of his eyebrows so small creases in his forehead appeared. His dark eyes glimmered with a look of wonder and disbelief. “How do you know so much about this, (Y/N)? Are you a scholar who snuck up on a ship and became a pirate?”

(Y/N) laughed, knocking him to the side with a shove. “Oh, you clown. No, I’m no scholar, I’m not that smart. But when I was a girl, I loved learning about the stars and the planets and such. I was from a wealthy family, so I was able to get the education easily. But while I failed at writing, and at numbers and at just about everything else, the skies was the one thing that always intrigued me, up to this day.” She admitted, letting out a dreamy sigh. Scotty stared at her, a small smile forming on his face as his eyes trailed over her pensive features. “I sometimes wonder if I made a mistake running away and becoming a pirate. If I stayed in Britain and got married off… I could’ve made it work and gotten more education on the stars…” Her words fell and her sentence trailed off. She shrugged, shaking her head in shame. “I don’t know, Scott… I love this life of freedom I have, but the education that was waitin’ for me would’ve kept my life in endless wonder and thought, not in endless murder and lootin’.”

Scotty listened tentatively, leaning in closer to her so that their shoulders were touching. “My, I would’ve loved to have a family as yours. Rich and powerful. I came off the streets and the only thing that helped me survive was learning to cook. And thieve.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in surprise. “You thieved, Scotty? Why, you’re no different from us after all, you scoundrel.” He gave her a sweet smile, his eyes lighting up when he met her gaze. But he looked away quickly before he felt his heart start to skip. 

“Yeah.. yeah. I thieved food off the people on the streets when their backs were turned. Then… I went to the temporary home I stayed in, and taught myself how to cook the scraps of meat and how to cut up vegetables. I learned how to season and how to properly clean and cook meat the hard way.”

(Y/N) let in a hissing breath, wincing at the thought. “Raw meat, aye?”

“Aye. The one time I didn’t wash the meal thoroughly.” He sighed, shaking his head as he remembered the gruesome night he had. His stomach wouldn’t let him sleep.

“You must’ve been shitting ya insides out, mate.” 

Scotty sent her a scowl, and she responded with a knowing look. His lies couldn’t penetrate that stare. He succumbed. Groaning, he drooped his shoulders and head. “Fine… I did, okay, and it was the worst experience of my life. That’s why I’m extra careful with meat nowadays.”

(Y/N) let out a fake gagging noise. “Gross, Scott!”

“Why, you stated it in the first place, wench.” He lightly shoved her at the shoulder just as she did to him. She giggled as she stumbled a few steps. But she regained her balance and re-straightened her posture, getting back on her stable two feet. Just like she always did. His heart fluttered.

“Why don’t you teach me somethin’ about cooking, Scott?” (Y/N) offered, changing the topic of the conversation quickly. Scotty thanked God for that. “I may be a lady, but I don’t know how to cook to save my life, lad.”

Scott shrugged, the two of them watching the islands pass by. “What would you like to know, then?”

(Y/N) clicked her tongue. “The basics, Scotty! If I were ever stranded out on an island, for instance. What would I need to do?”

“Well, you would need to get some fresh water. Find yaself something to contain the water, start a fire, and boil it.”

“Why?”

“To get all the dirty stuff out of the water. Even the freshest-looking seas got some filth in it. The fire will burn and kill them all quickly. You wait ‘til it’s steaming until ya drink it or use it for cooking.”

(Y/N) nodded, mentally taking note of everything he was saying. “A’right. Go on. What about the food?”

“Food’s easy, but like I warned ya before,” He shot her a stern look. She put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing. “-you watch for the meat and make sure it’s cleaned and cooked thoroughly. Otherwise you get a night like I did when I was a lad.” 

(Y/N) lifted her chin higher and closed her eyes, letting her face get basked by the sun’s rays. “Cooking… How do you cook?”

Scotty wondered if he could explain it in words how you know when meat is well-cooked. Then, his eyes lit up with an idea. “Give me your hand, lass.”

“Bloody hell you want my hand for..” She mumbled, holding her hand out palm up for him. He took her gently by the wrist.

“Alright, touch this area barely underneath ya thumb with ya finger.” He instructed, pointing out the area she needed to feel. Confusion taking over her features, she slowly placed her finger in the soft area underneath her right thumb. “That’s what raw meat will feel like, lass. Alright, now with ya hand, touch your forefinger and thumb together.” (Y/N) did so, and felt the area. “What do you feel?’

“It’s harder. Still a bit mushed up, but harder.” 

Scotty nodded. “That’s what rare meat feels like. Now connect ya thumb with ya middle finger.” (Y/N) did so and poked at the area underneath her thumb.

“Now it’s harder than before.”

“That’s what medium-rare feels like.” Scotty told her, hesitantly letting go of her wrist. He felt his ears go red, and he hoped to God that it wasn’t noticeable. “Usually, you want ya meat to reach medium-rare. But if you want to cook it to well-done, you can do that as well.”

(Y/N) smiled at the new information. “Thank you, Scotty. Maybe now I’ll have a better chance of surviving out in the wild.” 

They both exchanged wide grins before they looked away from each other, Scotty feeling more flustered than ever. What was happening to him? He was sneaking peeks at the girl through his peripheral vision. She stared at the waves before them, while Scotty couldn’t help but stare at her. Beauty was reflected in both of their gazes.

He was about to open his mouth to say something, but a call from above made the both of them look up to see what was happening.

They saw Tib standing on the crow’s nest above, staring into his hand telescope at the area ahead of the ship. (Y/N) couldn’t see exactly what his expression was, but the whoops and sounds he was emitting made it clear for all of them.

“We struck land, mates! Kingston up ahead!” He yelled down to the rest of them on the deck. (Y/N) and Scotty flashed each other a wide-eyed look. (Y/N) was the first between them to flash a giddy grin and run to the ship’s wheel where Captain Vayne was steering the ship calmly. Balmy weather made for easy rides.

“Ahoy, you two.” Captain greeted, his hands firmly placed on the wheel. A wooden pipe was in his mouth, occasionally puffing out the smoke from the side of his thin mouth. 

“Cap’n, don’t ya need a break? Kingston’s port is close and I want to get some experience in, ya know?” (Y/N) persuaded, Scotty chuckling behind her. She loved finishing a sea voyage by anchoring the ship and singing a sea shanty that she would recall from memory. Scotty knew that she had a great voice and was always the leader when it came to songs. Her lyrics were always either profound or foolish, enjoyable to hear no matter the two.

Captain Vayne’s wrinkly blue eyes rolled to the side to look at her dubiously. “Ya up to something, lass?”

She frowned, shaking her head. “‘Course not, sir. Gimme a chance to sail, Cap’n! I waited a long time,” She was pleading like a child. Scotty snorted behind her.

“She might just jump overboard and swim the way to Kingston if ya don’t, Cap’n.” He commented, leaning on the upper deck’s rails casually. “All while she’s bellowing her sea shanties.”

(Y/N) clenched her jaw, the look on her face screaming ‘shut up’ to the smug-faced boy. Captain Vayne let out a laugh from deep in his chest, and released his grasp on the wheel.

“Oh, fine. I’m only letting ya because of all the rum I drank last night, ya hear? Me head is killin’ me,” He began to mumble incoherently, shaking his head as he removed himself from the post and made his way to the main deck. (Y/N) sent him many thank-yous, taking the large wheel in her hands. She was no expert at sailing, yet she wasn’t an idiot. She could sail well when the conditions of the weather weren’t out to kill you, that is. And if by chance, nature was indeed coming for her blood, she knew how to work her way out of it.

“Look at that, Scotty.” She breathed, feeling the movement of the ship more intensified as she took control of the boat. She turned the ship’s direction mindlessly, humming to herself her newest shanty that she had heard and committed to memory when they were docked at Port Royal. She maneuvered the boat gingerly, almost afraid to make any sudden movements with her. Scotty watched as she winced every time she would have to move the ship suddenly to the side, or how her eyes would widen when a sudden violent wave rocked on the side of the ship, spewing sea water all over the decks. 

“What was that shanty you was hummin’?” He asked curiously, sitting down on one of the stairs that led up to the upper deck from the main one. (Y/N)’s eyebrows raised, yet she never took her eyes off the seas ahead.

“Shanty… I wasn’t humming no shanty, boy.”

“I know you well enough by now to know that you were hummin’ something, (Y/L/N). Spill it, lass.” Scotty replied boldly, giving her an over the shoulder gaze. (Y/N) grumbled, scowling at the boy before she hesitantly began to sing quietly to herself.

“Farewell an’ adieu to you fair Spanish ladies, farewell an’ adieu to you ladies of Spain, for we’ve received orders for to sail for old England, an’ hope very shortly to see you again.” (Y/N) whispered, just so that only she could hear it clearly and Scotty was straining his ears to hear it better.

“Louder, lass!”

Rolling her eyes, she obliged. “We’ll rant an’ we’ll roar, like true British sailors, we’ll rant an’ we’ll rave across the salt seas, ‘till we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England, from Ushant to Scilly is thirty-four leagues.”

“Oh, c’mon lass! Let the birds hear you sing!” Scotty taunted, as her voice got steadily louder as she got closer to the chorus. Scotty bopped his head to every second beat.

“We hove our ship to, with the wind at sou’west, boys-” (Y/N) took in a deep breath, taking in the salty air around her, creating a big smile on her face as Scotty cheered her on from the side. She closed her eyes as she sang. “We hove our ship to for to take soundings clear. In fifty-five fathoms with a fine sandy bottom, we filled our main tops'l, up Channel did steer. The first land we made was a point called the Deadman, next Ramshead off Plymouth, Start, Portland, and Wight. We sailed then by Beachie, by Fairlee and Dungeyness, then bore straight away for the South Foreland Light.”

Her tunes were long and melodic and beautiful and Scotty was nodding to the rhythm of her voice. “That’s it, lass! Louder so the seas can hear ya.”

“Now the signal was made for the Grand Fleet to anchor,” (Y/N) laughed at Scotty. She was watching him through the side of her eyes and was being entertained by his support. She raised her chin higher as she sailed the ship through the rocky waves. “We clewed up our tops’ls, stuck out tacks and sheets.” She looked over to Scotty, and he was rolling with her lyrics. He knew that they were aimless and messy, but he enjoyed them nonetheless. “We stood by our stoppers, we brailed in our spankers, and anchored ahead of the noblest of fleets.”

Now that Scotty had heard the song and had been somewhat introduced to the rhythm of it, he began to hum the song as (Y/N) used the entire capacity of her lungs to make sure her voice rang through the air. 

“We’ll rant an’ we’ll roar, like true British sailors, we’ll rant an’ we’ll rave across the salt seas, ‘till we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England, from Ushant to Scilly is thirty-four leagues.” 

Her voice synchronized nicely with his hums. They were being so loud, that the rest of the crew were turning their direction to the both of them. They didn’t care to notice. The music had dragged them to another world of their own.

(Y/N) took over. “Let every man here drink up his full bumper, let every man here drink up his full bowl, and let us be jolly and drown melancholy, drink a health to each jovial an’ true-hearted soul. We’ll rant an’ we’ll roar, like true British sailors, we’ll rant an’ we’ll rave across the salt seas, ‘till we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England, from Ushant to Scilly is thirty-four leagues. ”

By now, her chorus was so momentous, the whole crew on the upper and main decks were chanting her lyrics with her. They hung from the sails, sitting on the beams, with their eyes closed and voices united by harmony.

“We’ll rant an’ we’ll roar, like true British sailors, we’ll rant an’ we’ll rave across the salt seas, ‘till we strike soundings in the Channel of Old England, from Ushant to Scilly is thirty-four leagues!” The crew sang together, bellowing to the skies. (Y/N) had the biggest grin on her face, proud that she had gotten the crew to sing one of the shanties in unison. (Y/N) finished off the song just as she began riding into one of Kingston’s docks. The men knew what to do, and once the boat was next to port, they anchored her and scrambled to get off the ship.

“That was a moment to remember, lass.” Scotty puffed, regaining his breath from the excitement of the song. It required long notes and holding them, and although Scotty wasn’t apt at that, he did so for (Y/N). “You headin’ to the tavern? I think just about all of us are.”

(Y/N) flicked at the wheel’s rigid state now that they had docked, and looked up at him. “My headache was cured by sailin’ and singing. You really think I’m bound to give myself another one?” Scotty stayed silent, observing her skeptically. She was never one to give up a good shot of rum and a night of festivities. (Y/N) shifted her weight to one leg, and bounced to the other, impatiently. She watched as the sailors whooped their way to the fun and enjoyment. Jealousy made her flare her nostrils, eventually yielding to Scotty’s gaze. “God damn it. Of course I’m about to do it.”

The two of them ran to catch up to the others, almost diving off the boat and sprinting down the dock. They pushed each other as they went, giggling madly like children on the school grounds. They may have had the lives of pirates, but their hearts of gold remained. 

(Y/N) thought she would stop drinking for a while after her conversation with Tib. The rum wasn’t sitting well with her, hearing about love and loss, grief and sorrow. Was it the whole concept that sickened her? She wasn’t quite sure and she didn’t want to know the answer. But once she stepped into the tavern and smelled the sweet, familiar taste of rum and whiskey, who was she to resist?

It wasn’t her money she was paying with, anyways. She had snatched Tommy Jones’ sack of coins when he wasn’t looking, took a few, and placed it right where she found it on his waistband. With it, she paid for both she and Scotty’s first round of rum.

Poor bastard.


	3. Me Estoy Muriendo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a slight misstep in action has the capacity to change it all, for better or worse. 
> 
> still, life has a way of perpetually pushing us towards better moments for ourselves. even if we don't like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last chapter i'm posting for today, and some drastic changes occur in the life of the reader in this chapter. and by its end, our beloved reader finally gets to meet that boy kenway.
> 
> there are some spanish words being spoken in this chapter, and for some, i provided a brief translation afterwards. if you guys want me to post a translation for all of them, let me now so i can go back and add them in. it is the reader's conversation with a minor character, but the words being exchanged are still sweet nonetheless.
> 
> enjoy!

#  Chapter 3 

**Me Estoy Muriendo**

 

Stumbling over the chair she was supposed to sit in, she scowled, pulling it out more than it needed to be to be seated in, and plopping down lazily. The tavern was having a carnival with the amount of pirates occupying the bar seats. Each of her crew mates had a wench on their arms, smelling of liquor and bad decisions.

(Y/N) had been with Scotty the whole time, drinking and talking about their interests. When the lightweight had decided to retire for the night, her only companions left with her was Captain Vayne and a bottle of rum. 

The drink was dulling the aches she was feeling earlier, but she knew it would only bring more pain to her later than the pleasure she was feeling indulging it now. The power hedonism had over a common man was incredibly wondrous. An ounce of pain could be fixed with an ounce of pleasure. Does it matter that the same pleasure you blissfully enjoyed would double your pain later on? She rubbed at her temples harshly. She thought too much.

With a bottle of rum in one hand, she was willing to do things that she wouldn’t dream of doing sober. No, not diving off the mast of a ship or swim with the sharks for a couple of coins to spend. She was being incredibly vulnerable and revealing parts of her life to her fellow crewmates. It shouldn’t be weird at all; she had lived with these men for a while. They had become part of her life. Yet, in her eyes, they were just mere acquaintances. Quick smiles and nods exchanged were their interactions. The only people who she feels comfortable telling detailed descriptions of her life to was with Captain Vayne and Scotty, and maybe Tib if he’s drunk enough to forget. 

At least she didn’t go too into detail. She had only stated that she was 20 years old, she was the youngest in a family of 2 other brothers, and that she was half-Spanish because of her mother. To them, these would be small subtleties to brush off easily with a swig of a drink. But to her, it was her being weak. Impotent. Soft. All the traits she hated and she was becoming the epitome of them. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her crew mates enough to tell them about the real her, but she was rather scared of them knowing about the real her. Maybe it was because she had lived the pirate’s life for so long that she classified those traits with being too ‘feminine’, too delicate, when there was really nothing wrong with being that way. Maybe because living around men all of your life made you start to think like them instead of what a normal girl would be thinking of. Dresses. Balls. Perfect hair. A nice life. It was messing with her. The rum. Sweat was collecting under the skin her hat was covering. She was itching to take it off, but looking up at her surroundings, she rathered not to.

A warm hand reached out and rested on her shoulder. She was slouching over her drink, swishing it around in her cup. When she felt the contact, her bowed head raised and looked to her Captain, intoxicated by the drink and letting it dull his senses. The look in his eyes was a fine balance of darkness, but with a twinge of delight. (Y/N) took that as an irony. They were all digging up their own watery graves, but managed to find the joy in it nonetheless. The thrill of being a pirate. It was being reflected in the old man’s eyes.

“Ya doin’ a’right, lass?” He slurred, rolling the cup of rum in his hand from side to side with his fingers. (Y/N) watched the slight movement for a few quiet seconds, wondering if it was really the man speaking by this point. Hell, he had downed so many cups of rum, she wouldn’t be surprised if the drink itself managed to become a conscious being and possess him. She was sitting a good distance away from him and she could still smell the drink on him. 

Straightening her back, making his hand drop from shoulder, she leaned into the chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that, Captain?”

“Ya one witty wench, lass.” Vayne mumbled, taking a few sips of what remained in his drink. “I’m glad ya stayed as long as ya did on the Sea Princess as ya did. Most men can’t take it, and tis impressive to see you stay when ya aren’t even a man,”

Her Captain’s words were drunken, yet true. Her time with the crew was harsh, mentally exhausting, and gruelling, but here she was. Having a drink with the Captain, prevailing over her past ordeals and living life to the fullest even with the burden of her past tugging down at her heels. It wasn’t easy, and when you were given small moments to enjoy, God almighty, did they feel great.

“Ya know, I really shouldn’t be sayin’ this, lass, but… ‘member when ya first came to me for a spot on the ship?” 

(Y/N) stopped and thought back to it. She was only 15 years old, 5 years ago. She had barely run away from home, tattered clothes and fearing for her life. She was running bare-foot through the streets, abandoning the shoes she had been wearing the night she fled. She had run all the way to the Bristol docking yard, and bumped into Captain Vayne. Thinking about it, (Y/N) realized the man hadn’t changed a bit from when she first met him then to how he is now. He is still a stubborn, rough, cold old man who was only loosened up by the soft embrace of rum filling his stomach. She smiled softly, remembering how she begged to be put on the ship. That she would trade anything to get a spot.

“You had me cleaning the men’s quarters, you bastard old man.” She huffed, shaking her head as Captain Vayne laughed aloud. The sound of his laughter made her snicker a bit herself. She was vividly reminded of how terrible those conditions were. But she was lucky she had met a man as gracious enough as Vayne to give her a chance instead of tossing her overboard immediately.

“I did it for a reason, lassy,” He responded calmly, no remorse in his words. She didn’t look for remorse. It was 5 years later and the experience was more so a well-needed lesson than a worthless torment. “I needed to know if you were strong enough to last.”

(Y/N)’s eyes fluttered open in curiosity. “I was a girl coming from a noble family who ran a mile or so to get to the docks. Why wasn’t I strong enough to you?”

“No, no, not that type of strong, (Y/N)..” Captain chortled, hiccuping because of his drink. “I meant…” He trailed off, pointing to his head. He tapped his temple a few times, and when (Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows, he resumed. “Ya mind, lass. I needed to know if you wouldn’t go insane by the harsh life of a pirate.”

She let out a breath of revelation. 

“I made ya do the dirtiest shits a lady should never be asked to do. Wash the latrines, fish with ya bare hands, snap a bird’s neck, make ya wash the blood-stained clothes of the crew.” (Y/N) swallowed thickly, almost gagging when she thought of the horrid clothes that reeked of death. It would be stuck in her nostrils for days at a time. Until she got used to it. “You did those things for a bloody year, lass. That’s when I knew you weren’t normal.” They locked gazes. He shook his head. “No lady would be able to survive that with her sanity untouched, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) grinded her teeth together, her eyes drifting down to her drink. “Maybe I had a reason to survive, Cap’n.”

“Aye. And I knew from the start that it was for freedom,” Vayne raised his drink in approval to her. “And don’t give me that shocked look, lass, cause you know damn well I’m right,” (Y/N) stayed silent. She was in no position to go arguing with the facts. “Ya ran from ya wealthy home and ya luxurious family cause ya needed a release. That life wasn’t for you, lass. You found ya place with the crew, and here you are.”

“A-After-” She stammered, wetting her lips quickly. “After you officially made me a pirate of your crew… You didn’t let me do the stuff everyone else was doin’. Like… loot the ships and… everything that I do daily now, you didn’t let me do it at first. Why?”

Vayne smacked his chapped lips after taking a long drink of rum. “‘Cause you were still in training.”

“No, I wasn’t. While you made me do all of that shite, I was still bein’ trained during the night. I learned how to aim a gun, to throw daggers, to wield a sword. And I was bloody good at it, Cap’n!”

Vayne was nodding. Smiling, too. “Aye, ya was… You were the best and ya weren’t even a true pirate yet.” (Y/N) scoffed, the indignancy of it all made her take a hard, painful gulp of the rum. It was hurting her upper palate, the repetitive gushes of liquid hitting it harshly. She didn’t care. “But you weren’t at ya full capacity yet, lass.”

Captain set his empty cup to the side, and readjusted his position on the seat so he was leaning closer to her. “Do ya wonder why ya can aim better than the best soldiers? Do ya know why ya can throw a knife and it can hit a target from 100 fathoms away? Do ya know why you can take on 10 guards at once and come out unscratched?” He looked at her for a response. She didn’t have one. “Cause of the time ya invested in training yaself. By the time I finally let ya go out and kill some bastards by yaself, you were invincible. Can ya imagine it? A posh girl becoming a fearless pirate in the span of about a year and a half. Incredible.”

“Is that why? You trained me relentless for months on end, for-”

“To bring out the best in ya, lass. Look at ya now! The best of the best. No one can surpass ya.” He talked about her proudly. Her indignancy, by then, was long gone. She felt good to have someone be proud of her. Her parents were scratched off that list. “One day you’ll be a powerful captain, (Y/N). And I’ll be content to say that I trained ya to be who ya are.”

“I never thought of it in that way, Cap’n.” She whispered, awkwardly twiddling her thumbs. “Thank you. I may have hated you a bit for makin’ me go through all that, but it was all worth it.”

He gave her a hard slap on the back, alerting her senses to their peak by then. She didn’t know how she would sleep that night. “Don’t bug yaself too much on the past, ya hear? The past is only ya stepping stones to ya destiny. Ya true future… You use the past to learn. To grow. You can’t dwell on it, lass, or ya won’t move on.”

His words were causing a ripple in her thoughts. She always enjoyed listening to the words of wiser pirates. They’ll always have a large amount of experience weighing down their spines and their eye bags. (Y/N) looked to Captain Vayne as the father she never had. As a true teacher and mentor. As a friend.

“I look to you as a girl looks up to her father, Vayne.” She admitted, watching his reaction carefully. He grinned at the comment, showing his weathering teeth.

“And I see you as the daughter life was kind enough to bestow upon my miserable self, even if ya ain’t really my blood. You’ve been living under my care for so long, it feels as if ya are.” Vayne replied truthfully. “I’ve taken care of ya as if ya were my daughter, and I’ll continue to do so until my dying day.”

“Oh, Vayne, you truly are a blessin’,” (Y/N) laughed, pulling the man into an embrace. She patted his back numerous times, taking in his stench. It wasn’t appealing, but (Y/N) enjoyed it all the same. Vayne was one of a kind, and she loved the old man for that. He didn’t let it show often, to keep his cold reputation untouchable, but (Y/N) knew the man was a kindred soul. People like her were able to bring out the warmth in him again.

“Now, lass-” She sat back in her chair, pulling away from the old man. “Ya sword. I want ya to get it fixed tonigh’,”

(Y/N) frowned immediately and knitted her eyebrows together. “What? Why? My girl’s fine-”

“Ya girl Celestial will get broken and ruined if ya don’t get it checked. We leavin’ tomorrow, lass. We need our weapons in tip top shape in case any… rough meetings happen to fall our way.” Vayne told her, side-glancing the rest of the tavern, where the crew was still enjoying the most of it. (Y/N) realized that she had completely ignored the chaos ensuing around them when she spoke with Vayne. She was glad of that too. The constant smashing of glass and the squeals of women were harsh on the ears. Vayne leaned in to whisper. “Get yaself a better sword to hold on ya belt, lass. You learned how to wield two. Now use it to ya advantage.”

(Y/N) sighed, nervously eyeing the tipsy pirates. “You sure, Vayne? You drank a lot tonight. You’ll be fine?”

Vayne scoffed and grimaced, swiping away her comment with the swat of a hand. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, lass. I got my sword. You go and get ya pearl fixed. I might buy me a room and…” He sniffed loudly, his eyes drooping. “-sleep for the night. My eyes can’t take it. I’ll be out like a light soon enough, lass.”

(Y/N) placed a gentle hand on the man’s back. He placed his two arms on the table and used it as a pillow to rest his head. In the matter of a few seconds, she went quiet and only watched his peaceful stance. For a pirate so driven on respect and honor, stubborn and hardened, it was a bit of an odd look to see him become so vulnerable, and at peace. His greying black hairs stuck out from beneath his hat. They were splitting at the ends, tangled and drenched with the smell of the sea. His skin was olive, for so many years he had been out in the sun, under its piercing rays. 

She soon heard barely-audible snores and saw the slight rise and fall of his upper body. Damn. The man was so buzzed he fell out cold the minute he closed his eyes.

She did a quick scanning of the tavern and deemed it an alright area for him to take a quick rest. It was loud and disruptive, but peaceful enough for the Captain to take a nap in. God, (Y/N) couldn’t blame her crew. They had been on the seas for so long, they were taking each second and making it theirs. She was glad for them, but grumbled to herself. She decided to take Vayne’s advice and get Celestial polished for their next voyage. She loves the sword, and when she buys another one, she knows that she’ll name it Jupiter. A male name. A boy and a girl. She knows she was losing her wits naming her weapons as if they were her children. Better yet, assigning them genders. She couldn’t care less. Only she would be calling them by their names, anyways.

She gingerly closed the tavern door, although nobody would give a damn if she slammed it or broke it off its hinges anyways. Fastening her belt and tapping her side to make sure she had her sword, she began to make her way down the silent, dark streets. Her eyes darted to the sides frequently, hoping no one was there to slice her throat or stab her in the abdomen. Her hand instinctively hovered over the base of her sword just in case. (Y/N) wasn’t going to go down as the lady-pirate who was taken down in the streets of Kingston. Over her damn body.

Only the whisps of the wind could be heard in those dead streets. Hell, it was too quiet. When she had gotten far enough from the brightly lit tavern, she couldn’t hear a soul. Although it was oddly soothing, to get away from slurred screams and throaty laughs, it sent shivers down her spine. She swallowed thickly, her left hand firmly pushing down her hat over her head. She made sure none of her (Y/H/C) hair was sticking out at that point. In the dark, she would be probably seen more as threat a man than a woman. Terrible truth that was, but in times like these, you had no other choice than to stick with the world’s rules. 

Her head jerked around quickly as she thought she heard footsteps. Her heart caught in her chest, and she felt herself beginning to breathe heavily. Holding a hand over her thumping heart, she slowly turned back to the direction she was going and paced her footsteps with her breathing. She didn’t know why she was so tensed. Her hands were clammy from the feeling of dread filling her senses. She felt it in her heart that something was off. The last time she felt this was when they were out at sea one day, and the ominous gray clouds above approached fast and obvious. A storm was coming. 

Her stomach locked up tightly, she quickened her pace, almost jogging down the street until her eyes caught sight of a dim-lit building and a sign that read ‘Herrero’. Blacksmith.

She let out a sigh of relief, and looking over her shoulder once more. Her wide, cat-like eyes made a quick inspection of her surroundings. All she could see was darkness, the only light being of the moon herself. She felt a wave of consolation rush over her when her eyes were lit up by the moon. The soft, gentle breeze of the ocean blew by, rustling her clothes. All of her doubts and fears disappeared. All was well.

She entered the small shop, greeted by the smell of firewood and cinnamon. She took a good whiff of it, smiling softly at the affable environment.

“You…” A voice started slowly. She looked up. A man with simple clothes pointing a dark, shaky finger at her. “Y-You… Pirate?”

Her eyes went big. “Oh, sir, I mean no harm.” She began, with the most welcoming voice she could muster. “I just need a new sword for my collection. That’s all.”

His finger lowered, his alarmed expression never faltering. (Y/N) watched his jaw clench as he looked her up and down. Crinkling her face, she looked at her clothing as well. Was she not wearing pants or something? No… It wasn’t her pants, but rather her whole damn attire. A pirate’s attire. That’s why the man was so frightened.

“N-No speak… good.. English.” He shakily let out, wringing his hands nervously. He walked over to stand in front of his sword display. (Y/N)’s eyes softened, her toughened demeanor dropping immediately at the sight. The man was no threat. He was a civilian. A civilian living in the worst damn world imaginable. She pitied that he would have to live in a world ridden by people like her, his friends and family sometimes killed because they were at the wrong place at the wrong time. She pitied that he would have to bring children into the same damn world where cruelty is ever so common.

Being a civilian in this world was horrible. But was being a pirate any better?

“¿Pues… eso es inconveniente, no?” She replied, trying her hardest not to grin at the man’s expression when he heard her speaking fluent Spanish. Maybe her family wasn’t so terrible after all. They taught her an unforgettable language after all. The man let out a sigh, and quickly moved to showcase his swords, running a hand over the smooth, sheen metal.

“Estos son mis espadas, pues.” He said. These were his swords. (Y/N) slowly made her way over to them, their vivid detail becoming clearer to her with each step. She sucked in an astonished breath, as if she were a child in the toy shop again. She ran her pinky across the spotless surface. She could see her reflection in all of them. But the one that caught her attention the most was the sword with a black, leathered hold, and engraved on it were intricate designs that etched deep into the material. It looked like a statue cut from marble, but it was iron. And it was equally as beautiful.

“¿Cuanto es?” She asked, her eyes not moving from the specimen in front of her. Jupiter. He was a beaut, alright. (Y/N) could see it. Her hand hovered above its hold, desperately wanting to hold him in her hand.

“Cuardenta.”

“Puta.” She cussed lowly, searching her waistband for her small bag of coins. Once she heard the jingle of the coins in her velvet pouch, she loosened it from the hold and threw the whole bag on the counter. She didn’t care if the amount was too excessive for the purchase. The man’s mouth went ajar, and he seemed almost afraid to go near the pouch. (Y/N) picked up her sword, feeling its weight, and laughing. “Una belleza como esta no tiene precio. Gracias.” She nodded respectfully at the man.

“E-Esto.. Es demasiado dinero. Yo solo quise cuardenta.” 

“Señor, por favor. Toma lo.” (Y/N) persisted, gliding the bag across the counter so it moved closer to him. “Es mi gracias por… dándome un regalo impecable.” 

“M-Muchas gracias, señorita…”

(Y/N) stopped, her stomach dropping. She swallowed the lump down her throat, a bit of worry glossing over her features. The man had realized that she was a woman, even though she could have sworn that she had concealed every feminine aspect of her. “C-Como… como supiste que…” She turned to look at him, her furrowed brows and eyes twinkling with curiosity. “¿Que soy una… mujer?”

The man let out a small chuckle. It was the first relaxed gesture the man had done in (Y/N)’s presence. “Es obvio, niña.” It was obvious.

“¿Como?”

“Es un tu mirada. En tu cuerpo. En la forma de hablar suave que tienes.” He explained, a knowing grin plastered on his dark face. Years of living under the Caribbean sun. Time concealed youth, but it didn’t cover over other things. “Tu cara es bella, niña. Eres una pirata, si, pero yo veo que la vida te regalo la bendicion de belleza pura.”

“¿Belleza pura?” (Y/N) repeated incredulously, laughing aloud at the comment. How was she in anyway pure? ...Sure, in some ways, but…

“Si. Pura. Tu puedes desea cubrir todo con su estilo de vida endurecido, pero su verdadera forma de ser siempre será visible para el ojo observador.” 

His words took an impact on her. Worried her. She knew, even on her best days, that she would never appear like a true pirate, no matter how hard she tried, The man was right, she couldn’t be mad at him. Her feminine features. Her voluptuous form, somewhat hidden beneath her layers of clothing. Her full lips. Her long eyelashes. Her smooth, gentle voice. She couldn’t hide it. The man who she just met realized it quickly. Who knows how many others she had tried to deceive, yet she unintentionally gave it away. Her intimidation always reached a limit. Whether it came to brawls, to throwing daggers, or shooting cannons. She always wonder why, but the dark-skinned man made it clear. 

“¿Soy un pirata bella, pues?” She joked, Jupiter held limply with her right hand. The man scratched at his chin, narrowing his eyes at her. He nodded slowly.

“Si. Un pirata que hay que amarse a sí misma antes de que ella ama el océano.” 

This man was too wise. Her feelings and doubts about her life and way to be. All being read aloud and opinionated by this blacksmith who has a yellow-grinned smile and trailing scar, running down his left temple to his chin. Her eyes glazed over to the scar. 

“¿Como conseguiste eso?” She asked, nodding to the scarred skin on the side of his face. His forefinger carefully traced it, and his eyes closed. As if he were remembering the moment he had taken the blow that left him marked for life. (Y/N) observed his meditative state, how the creases around his eyes relaxed and how the dots plastered on his skin represented the stars in the sky. The man was a wonder. He was beautiful in his own way. 

“Yo…” He started, hesitation edging his words. “Yo fue un pirata a un ves también.”

He said the words and it all clicked. It was always the older pirates knocking the damn sense into her nowadays. First Tib, then Vayne, now…

“Y… ¿Que es tu nombre?”

“Santiago.”

Perfect. Santiago.

“Yo fue un pirata de España. Cuando era adolescente, yo me comía el mundo. Hasta que se terminó con la muerte de mis más cercanos amigos. La vida de un pirata no es fácil, no es un juego. Es una guerra contigo mismo todo los dias.” Santiago let out a shaky sigh. “Cuando yo me fui del negocio… otros de mis enemigos me querían matar. Fue pirata, y ahora no confio en muchos de mis hermanos viejos. ¿Que ironica es la vida, no?”

(Y/N) leaned against the counter, setting Jupiter aside. “¿Y… Porque confiaste en mi?”

Santiago’s eyes glistened as his smile pulled his wrinkles out from hiding. “Eres especial. No tienes una mala vibra. Si, yo me asuste porque yo conoce tu ropa. Pero tu cara… Tus ojos… Fueron algo magical.” 

(Y/N) looked down to her hands, a small smile threatening to take over. One she was trying her best to suppress. Too many sweet words in a day can make a girl dizzy. Cause that’s exactly what she was, no matter how many layers of clothing she wanted to put on to conceal the fact. No matter how many swords she carried on her belt. No matter the amount of blood that stained her hands and swords, invisible to the naked eye.

“Yo creo en mi palabra, muchacha.” Santiago spoke, when (Y/N) didn’t. “No necesito tu nombre. Yo te recuerdo como la belleza fría, cruel como el mar, sin embargo, la misma con un corazón caliente.” Santiago took her pouch and deposited it in his pocket. He bowed to her, and retreated up the stairs to, what (Y/N) guessed was, his room.She could only watch in silent admiration as the stairs creaked with his steps, and he never stopped for a moment. She gazed down at Jupiter, taking him in her hands again and adjusting him in another pocket of her waistband. 

She carefully maneuvered herself around the counter, trying to make as minimal noise possible. Her boots against the floorboards made a harsh creak whenever too much pressure was involved. She relied on her balance to tip-toe her way to the entrance again. Looking back around the humble, warm room, she knew she would cherish the conversation she had with the man to heart. Not only was he wise, but he was once a pirate. He could understand the life, just as much as she did. Silently, she wished him luck in the days to come.

Exiting the blacksmith, she expected to be met again with the quiet, still environment a nocturnal Kingston provided. She wanted to see the ocean for a bit before she headed to a tavern to sleep the rest of the night away. And the rum. She wasn’t horrifically drunk, but she could feel its effects kicking in whenever she stumbled a step or went dizzy.

A shrill scream pierced the air. More followed, in a jumbled sequence. She stopped, pressing herself into the blacksmith’s door. She was trying to conceal herself, but she knew it was futile. The screams were getting closer. They sounded like war-crys. But they also sounded like calls for help. Desperation evident in the way they sounded. They were bone-chilling. And the wind picked up speed. The horrid feeling in her heart returned, making it thump sporadically against her ribcage. She could hear it.

A small crowd of civilians came running down the street. She watched them, letting out a shaky exhale as they sprinted past her. She had never seen civilians run as fast as they did. The ladies were picking up their skirts, running as fast as their small feet could carry them. And the men held onto their hats as they ran straight, looking over their shoulders ever so frequently. They all looked petrified, uttering incoherent whimpers as they passed. Phrases (Y/N) couldn’t catch. They were trying to escape. (Y/N) moved away from the door and walked in the direction they were running from. Her interest was sparked. Uneasy, but there. 

“¡Los Españoles!” She froze, her heart dropping. She felt her blood go cold and the utter life drain out of her body and soul. The Spanish.

Her legs began moving before her conscious returned to her. Full adrenaline was pumping through her veins. Her crew. Her crew! God almighty, they were still at the tavern! The civilians were running away from the area she knew her crew was in. She couldn’t think straight. She couldn’t even see. She was sprinting as fast as she could. The buildings surrounding her flew by in a clouded blur. Her haggard breaths were the only thing she could hear. 

She was close. The quiet streets (Y/N) came to admire arrived and went. Tension filled the air like smoke, and she seemed to be choking. She knew she needed to catch a breath. She wasn’t the most fit person around. When she had stopped running, and took lung-filling gulps of air, she smelled it. It wasn’t tension asphyxiating her. It was heavier.

It was smoke.

She began to move again once the air rang with more bellows. Turning the sharp corner of the street, she took an eyeful. Now, she understood why the civilians were so frightened by the Spanish. The bastards really had no class, did they? Two buildings were engulfed by flames, the orange-red haze brightening up the street like a disastrous beacon. They were, most likely, homes. Civilian homes. God be good, she hoped that no one was in that building when those monsters destroyed it.

She kept moving, trying to get back to the tavern. Her memory was so muddled, she was forgetting the way back. Her eyes skimmed the buildings around her, searching, pleading silently to find the tavern untouched. Scotty was in there. Vayne was in there. Oh for fuck’s sake, Vayne!

Why did she leave him behind? Why was she so dim enough to leave a drunken pirate behind when the stakes were so high? Please, please be alright. She thought repeatedly to herself. Please be alright. I’ll be there soon.

Once she was nearing the docks, she realized she was close. The buildings were becoming more familiar. Civilians were still panicking throughout the streets, not knowing where to go. Some unfortunate souls didn’t have homes anymore. They needed to leave now. The Sea Princess. Where was she? 

(Y/N). The strong-headed, hardened, and fierce lady-pirate was deathly, terribly afraid. Captain Vayne had knocked the fear out of her at a young age. She had seen more blood, guts, and shit than the average pirate. She could operate in the cold, freezing temperatures, with just her hat and oversized coat as her only protection. She could sail when a storm is coming. She could survive in the scorching heat, when the excessive sun would cause a simple man to hallucinate. Though as fearless as she seemed, there were some things in which she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle. Her heart would give in somehow. She wouldn’t take it. 

Looking out to the open ocean, she saw numerous ships with that damned flag raised high into the foggy air. La Bandera de España. Fucking parasites. They were everywhere.

(Y/N) rushed down the street, searching building-to-building, looking for the tavern. What was its name? She thought, scratching at her brain. Her thoughts were insignificant to her when she finally caught sight of it. Just like she had hoped, the building was unharmed. But a force more deadlier than a thousand fires had already reached it. Hell, it was already inside.

A growl forming deep into her chest, her eyes went dark as she whipped out both of her swords from their sheathed enclosures. She twirled them in her hands, making her way to the tavern’s entrance with the devil in her trails. She was shaking with visible anger. Her swords were ready to carve up anyone who stood in her way.

She kicked open the entrance enough to make it fly off its hinges. She stepped in to an absolute massacre. She let out a startled gasp as she saw bloodied bodies lay amongst the floor, almost covering it completely. Women and men alike. Her crew. She lifted her gaze and spotted a few more Spanish soldiers cornering another pirate. She couldn’t get there fast enough. They shoved a sword through his neck and laughed as he fell lifelessly to the ground. 

(Y/N) used Jupiter and Celestial to penetrate two Spanish soldiers directly in the back. They let out yelps of shock, before (Y/N) used her leg to kick them off her swords. They were thick, coated in blood. She turned, taking on another Spanish soldier. He was raising his arm, readying a blow to the head. She kicked him in the groin, and he stumbled in pain, bending over with one hand going to cover his inflicted area. (Y/N) drove one of her swords straight in his back, sending him a kick to the stomach as he went. She groaned loudly as she heaved the sword out of him, and promptly fought off two more soldiers that had witnessed the scene. 

She was in a furious rampage. Normally, she would feel a twinge of pity when ending another’s life. Yet, in that moment… she felt nothing. She felt like a monster, driving swords into the hearts of men with no remorse. When one of them was letting out cry for help, she backhanded him with her fist. One by one, each of the Spanish in the ransacked tavern fell. Each one that took pleasure in killing her crew were met with the same fate. There was no expression on her face as she took their lives. Only a look of bared teeth as she plunged the metal deep into their chest, twisted it around, and pulled it out abruptly. It was grotesque. Bright blood splatters caked her face and clothes. Her swords dripped with fresh, crimson blood. The smell of death lingered in her scent. It smelled foul and disturbing, the lives of many ended at her hand.

What a way to end the night. (Y/N) couldn’t believe how much destruction can occur in such little time. It was times like these when she wanted to believe there was no God. Who would allow such a monstrosity to occur? But thinking it through, it was at the hands of man when things like this occurred in such a heinous manner. Her mind kept repeating the sounds of the men sliding off her swords, a sluggish sound. God was watching. Don’t let her be misunderstood.

Her hands only began to quiver when she looked down to the tavern floor and saw the limp bodies of the men she used to sail with everyday. Gulping thickly, she recalled their names, whispering them softly to herself. Yuppy. Gillian Gold, the only other blondie on the crew. Porter. Winston. Titter Totter Til. The idiot, whenever drunk, would sway side-to-side comedically, muttering slurred sea shanties under his breath. She would miss all of them. They were the worst types of men, but they were her friends. Let the light lead them to somewhere better. They deserve it.

“Vayne..” She breathed, the word barely passing her lips. She saw his legs from behind a flipped table. Putting her swords back into her waistband, she hurried to push the table away from him. She hadn’t realize the wetness forming around her eyes until she caught a glimpse of the old man. She kneeled near his head, cradling it under her blood-stained arms. Two slashes formed an ‘X’ on his chest. Blood oozed out of the wounds sickly, and (Y/N) grimaced at the sight. “C-Captain… Captain, you have to get up… we have to leave…” Her voice cracked by the end of her sentence. Tears were spilling down her face, washing a bit of the blood off as they streaked. Shaking her head, she sniffled down at the man. “Captain, ya can’t die like this… W-What about Havana? What about our plans?” 

Denial. She was overwhelmed by it. She took a few deep breaths to recover her strength before getting up, taking the Captain by his underarms, and tugging him upwards with all of her might, which wasn’t much at all. The earlier adrenaline was wearing thin, and her exhaustion was fluttering in. She was clenching her teeth, whimpering in desperation and helplessness as she pulled his body upwards slightly. Her thighs and arms were screaming, but she wasn’t listening. She trailed over the cold corpses of her crewmates, knocking them to the side with her unsteady feet. She was tripping, almost falling over a corpse or two. She kept tugging. She felt him slipping from her grasp as she made it out into the middle of the streets. She fell onto her knees, and the Captain did as well with a devastating flop on lifeless limbs. Hysterical, (Y/N) let out screams of sorrow that echoed through the night. Heavy tears streamed down her face, reddening her cheeks. She hugged the Captain’s body, begging for him to come alive again.

“No, no, NO!” She bellowed, gripping the Captain’s coat between her balled fists and crying into the fabric. Her head pained by the intensity of her sobs. Yet, she continued to scream and bawl, trying to lift Vayne’s dead corpse. “NO! Vayne, please-” She pulled at his weight, her voice hoarse from screaming. Even breathing through her mouth pained her. “Someone, HELP ME!” She yelled desperately, her sight clouded by the tears filling her eyes. She looked around to try and find anyone, but to no avail. Her crew was dead. The Sea Princess was most likely looted by this point. Looking for help was a lost cause. It pained her to come to terms with this. Burying her face into the crook of his neck, she tried to feel his warmth again. The smell of the ocean that lingered him. Instead, she was met with the smell of metal. Blood. His skin was abnormally cold for a man who had so much fire within. She punched at the ground in frustration, letting out another agitated, desperate scream. Bruising her knuckles, she shakily wiped her face for it to be coated again with another wave of tears.

She used her hand to gently hit the side of the Captain’s face, as if that could re-animate him and bring him back to her. She inhaled scratchily, struggling to catch some air. Her chest was closing in on her. The grief dizzied her, as she clenched her eyes shut tightly, choked back whimpers bottling up inside of her throat.

No matter how hard she tried, he was gone. The man who raised her like she was his own daughter. The man who trained her harder than his most fearsome pirates. The man who converted her from a girl to a pirate in a world where women are supposed to be kept at home. The man who treated her like an actual person, rather than the doll her parents used to compare her to. The man who had big dreams for her. The man who believed in her.

“I’ll never forget you, Vayne.” She sobbed loudly, her words muffled by his coat. Hunched over his body, she was letting out all of her emotions. Her heart was splitting. She was dying inside. Her tears were soaking his clothes, ruining them. As if that really mattered by that point. To (Y/N), the Captain was untouchable. How could this have happened on a night that was going so well? “Why did you make me leave, you bastard!? Why couldn’t it have been me?!” She hit her captain’s chest a few times with her palm, expecting a witty remark or growl for a response. Getting none, she covered her mouth with her hand as she held back another sob. The tears never faltered, however. She sunk low, wondering why they had to take a man who deserved so much more. She was scared. How was she supposed to live without Vayne? Without her crew? Her gut-wrenching cries were perpetual, feeling as if she had been crying for centuries. Her face was wet, the sides, her cheeks, her chin. The tears left their imprint as they travelled down her neck, cold and uncomfortable against her skin. She shook her head, tears dripping down from her eyes at an incredible rate. Tears were smeared all over her face. They were in her nose. They were on her lips, as when she spoke she could taste their bitter saltiness. She felt weak. She felt tired. She wanted God to smite her and rip her off the hellish world she was living in. To pull her away from harm and tell her everything was going to be alright. An angel to guide her away.

Two strong arms wrapped around her midsection, pulling her to her feet. She kicked and screamed, insulted and cried. She was reaching out to Vayne, begging to be with him. He was dead. He had been gone for a long time. Yet, she wanted to be with him still.. He was her Captain. Her true savior.

“LET GO OF ME!” She wailed, scratching and hitting the arms wrapped tightly around her, pulling her away from her captain’s corpse. She was flailing widely, trying to free herself. Whoever behind her almost lifted her off her feet, letting her feet kick madly around, as she tried to reach out to Vayne. “CAPTAIN!” If she was to die with him, so be it. It would be life doing her a damn favor.

Her life without Captain Vayne would be pure hell. No one could ever replace him. Not in her eyes. She wasn’t ready to face the world without her beloved, stubborn leader. He taught her to look to the skies each night and say, ‘I can do it.’ He taught her that it’s okay to be a different type of pirate as long as you stay true to yourself. Everyone had a different personality and way to be. Captain Vayne was her motivator, the one person who cheered her on when no one else would. Who's going to do that for her now?

“Please work with me, lass.” The voice begged. It was smooth, somewhat Welsh-accented. If it were any other moment, it might of soothed her. The deep whispers of a man were close to her ears, trying to convince her to cooperate. She refused, crying and begging to be left alone. He ignored her heart-wrenching sobs and pleas for her to stay, holding her firmly. He wasn’t going to let her go, and (Y/N) knew that the moment he withstood her resistance. She was scratching the skin off this man’s hands and he still had an iron grasp on her. She _still_ fought against his will. He dragged her away from the corpse, and the ferocious fighter of a woman still recoiled in his hold. Wailing and kicking, digging her heels into the dirt to try and stop him. To no avail, as the man was more hard-headed than she was, if that was even possible. “If the Spanish find ya with a pile of their dead soldiers, ya better believe you’ll be hanged by mornin’, lass. Let’s go.”

“No-!”

She tried to take hold of the side of a building, using all that was left of her strength in trying to stay. The man tugged at her, yanking her off and continuing to drag her away from the scene. She was a mess, her hat falling off her head. Her (Y/H/C) hair falling to her shoulders in disorderly strands. Her seemingly unblemished outer appearance tainted by grief and sorrow. Her eyes red and bloodshot, unable to open properly anymore without squinting at the moonlight’s rays. Some strings of hair stuck to her wet face. Her nose running, sniffling in shame.

She lifted up her right foot behind her, just enough, to hit whoever was holding her in the groin. He let out an aching breath, his grasp on her immediately dropping. She tore his hands away from her midsection and turned around to face him properly, her distress visible in her tone of voice. And in her eyes.

“Who in the bloody hells are you?!” She demanded, her teeth bared and her eyes narrowing as she looked him up and down. He was dressed in odd robes, something unpleasant to wear in the heat of the West Indies. He had short, blond hair that was tied back messily, strands of hair falling loose of its grasp, hanging by the sides of his face. His eyes were a fierce blue, a mesmerizing color. It shined more so because of the dark outlining the area around his eyes. (Y/N) couldn’t take in all of his features, considering it was too dark to see. But, she knew he looked gruff. 

“My name isn’t important right now, lass.” He spoke urgently. One look at the man and she was seething. Irritation was clouding her senses, unable to look at the man in a better light. “What’s important is that the both of us get ourselves out’a here. The Spanish are overrunning the island. Everyone here is as good as dead if we don’t leave by morn.”

“Why do you think I’d be going anywhere with you?” She fumed, clenching her fists tightly, her fingernails digging into her palms. “My crew is back there!” She motioned to where he had dragged her away from. “I need to get them-”

Just as she made the move to go back, the man reached out and took her firmly by the wrist. “Have you lost it, lass? What part of, ‘The Spanish had overrun the island’ do you not get?” As (Y/N) struggled against his grip, he brought her back towards him. “-No, lass!”

“Leave me be!” She wiggled her arm out of his grasp and went running back. The man was hot on her trail. She needed to see Vayne again. She needed to see he was properly buried. Laid to rest with honor.

She was turning the corner when she was stricken by the sight of dozens of Spanish soldiers filling the streets. They were dragging the dead bodies out of the buildings, including the ones in the tavern. She couldn’t see Vayne, and her heart quickened. The man stood behind (Y/N), also taking part in watching the soldiers. His wide, blue eyes squinted at the sight.

The Spanish were talking amongst themselves, laughing and joking as if they had done something gallant. She scowled, the feel of pure hatred causing her fists to tremble by just watching them. 

They were dragging all of the dead bodies of the fallen pirates closer to the harbor of the island. Spanish flags waving silently in the air, almost like an omen of death. The Spanish took no remorse in making sure they looted the bodies clean, making sure they took any coins they found. Her stomach was flipping, the nauseating sight making it hard to watch without feeling a rise of bile in her throat. 

Her eyes drifted over to one soldier who was hunched over a dead body. She squinted her eyes, trying to get a good look at what he was doing. His arms were moving, his right one more than the left. He was struggling to retrieve something. A few of his partners were watching over the hunched man, with crossed arms and approving looks.

(Y/N)’s innocent curiosity made her witness a scene that she knew she wasn’t bound to forget. 

With one final heave and an exasperated groan, the Spanish soldier raised a somewhat bloodied dagger in the air. On its tip, dangled a stained red, pure gold tooth. He took it in his fingers, showing it off to the men who were watching him extract it from the dead pirate’s mouth. They gleefully patted the amateur surgeon on the back, huddling around him to observe the specimen closer.

(Y/N) gagged, covering her mouth and closing her eyes to shield her from seeing anymore. Behind her, the man let out a growl. 

“Fucking animals,” He mumbled, putting a comforting hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder. She felt bile seeping up her throat, jerking her body forward. The man was rubbing circles into her back. “If ya need to, do it quietly, lass.”

She swallowed it down painfully, the hot liquid burning her throat as it went back down. She coughed, covering her mouth immediately. Wincing, she raised her head to continue to watch the Spanish atrocities.

When they were dragging all the bodies out close to the water, (Y/N) expected them to simply toss their corpses out to sea. But, that wouldn’t be scandalous enough for these bastards, would it? Instead, (Y/N) watched in horror as they all raised their swords straight in the air, and proceeded to decapitate the pirate corpses. She let out a shuddering breath, her eyes filling with tears once more. The man was holding her at the shoulders, pulling her backwards.

“You shouldn’t be seeing this, miss.” He implored, coaxing her towards him. “Please.”

Her eyes remained locked on the scene. The noises were sickening, and once they had completed the task of mutilating the corpses, in unison, they let out a triumph cry as they held the severed heads in the air. She couldn’t count how many bodies were desecrated, but it was a plentiful number. Her eyes drifted over the heads, recognizing a good handful of them. Her crewmates butchered like animals. She tried to look away, good Lord did she need to look away, but she couldn’t. 

It wasn’t until she saw one head in particular when she finally began to stumble. Her knees buckled, and the man was there behind her to catch her and raise her back onto her feet. 

“Lass?” His voice sounded adrift, miles away. She was slipping into the darkness, her eyes threatening to shut any second now. “Lass? Can ya walk?” Her mind drowned out any other voices, only her eyes seemed to function. And she saw his head. Held up like a trophy for the Spanish barbarians. 

It was the last image she saw before she fainted in the arms of the unknown man. He picked her up gingerly, one arm carrying the underside of her knees, and the other under her neck. The man proceeded to carry her away from the repulsive scene, her head lolling as he moved. 

“Don’t worry, lass.” He cooed, his dark, blue eyes gazing over the woman’s relaxed features. His own ship could be seen in the distance, docked in one of the island’s more distant harbors. Its black flag raised graciously high, over all of its sturdy masts and sails. The moon was glistening beautifully above it. 

The woman in his arms mumbled incoherently, and it lightened his heart, planting a small smile on his face. She was so innocent in ways not visible to the eye. No matter how vicious and stubborn she can be, she was still a child at heart. To him, she was charming, even if the wench did kick him in the sack.

“You’ll be safe now.” He sighed wearily, as he stepped onto the dock that led to his ship.


	4. God Knows I Tried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one day on the jackdaw, and already our reader is making themselves known. i wonder what edward thinks of that?

#  Chapter 4 

**God Knows I Tried**

She woke incredibly warm, her body feeling sweaty underneath the numerous fabrics of her clothes. She wiped her at her forehead, and sure enough, she was sweating. Why was she so heated? 

Exhaustion fell over her, even after a full night’s worth of sleep. She couldn’t find the strength to open her eyes. She sat up groggily, groaning as she went, using her hands to wipe out all of the sleep from them. Even when she opened them, she couldn’t get them to their regular size. They were narrowed and drooping.

Looking around, she furrowed her brows. Where was she? The last thing she remembered was…

“No,” She whispered, running her hands over her face and into her hair. “C-Can’t be..” The whole thing felt like a surreal dream, until life kicked her black and blue and roughly told her that it wasn’t.

She pulled off her coat, feeling a bit cooler once it was off her. She was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and by the looks of things, she didn’t have anymore to spare. She wore a sleeveless white top that managed to cover enough of her protruding chest. Her famous green underbust corset tightened her midsection, and she took a few moments to tighten it around her. The thing gave her quite a look of elegance, something she didn’t exactly realize before. The color matched her baggy trousers, which were mostly covered until the knee by her boots. 

She reached for her belt that was placed on the nightstand next to the bed, wrapping it around her waist, just over the area where the corset met the trousers. She patted its golden buckle, and her hands trailed over to her swords. She was going to clean them today. Their red hue was impossible to miss. 

Finally, (Y/N) took her hat in her hands, hesitantly staring down at the black accessory, a single white feather attached to the side of it with the help of a golden hold. It was Captain Vayne’s gift to her when she became an official member of the Sea Princess. Remembering Vayne now hurt her heart, and she closed her eyes tightly to prevent anymore tears from forming. She didn’t want to cry, she didn’t want to live the rest of her days with the deaths of her crew hanging by her shoulders. Instead, she sucked in her breath, holding her head high as she placed her beloved hat on her head. She didn’t bother tying up her hair anymore. She let it cascade over her shoulders, in a voluminous, tangled mess. She didn’t have anything to hide no more. A bit of liberation came with a stupendous cost. 

She made her way to the door of the room she was in, realizing suddenly that she recognized that gentle swaying under her feet. Was she on a damn ship?

She hadn’t known either that the small room contained a circular window that let a bit of sunlight in. She hurried over to it, standing on her toes to try and see the outside. The sight of the balmy open ocean confirmed her thoughts. The man from yesterday had taken her on a ship. Only God knows where the hell they were going, or where the hell that man was now. Maybe he had just dropped her onto a foreign ship and left her behind. She wouldn’t blame him; she did kick him in the balls. It was the least of what she deserved for doing that to a man who was only trying to help her not kill herself. 

Letting out an air of frustration, (Y/N) adjusted her hat and made her way out. She stood on the balcony outside of the room, which overlooked the rest of ship. It reminded her of the days on the Sea Princess. Only yesterday were they living the dream together, and now… 

It seems that only she survived to tell the tale. And Scotty… 

Scotty. She didn’t know if he was killed or captured or… if he was one of the unfortunate corpses that got mutilated for the island to see. She hoped to God that he somehow made it out alive, that he is safe somewhere. She wouldn’t be the same if she found out that he was killed so brutally. She didn’t want closure on the situation, unless the outcome revealed that Scotty was alright. Otherwise, she can simply dream and pretend he is for time’s sake.

The sailors of the ship’s crew were either bustling with work, hauling barrels or crates around the ship, or they were sitting amongst the masts of the ship, speaking calmly with one another. It seemed so foreign to her, to be standing there on someone else’s ship. She was an outsider, and she could only stare at the rest of them, longing for that bond she used to have with her old crewmates, may they rest in peace.

She looked to the skies and saw just how normal everything seemed to be, as if what happened last night were insignificant. God, she didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to envision what happened. She didn’t want to relive how she felt in that situation, but everytime she closed her eyes, her mind wandered back to where it shouldn’t go. And it affected her every time in a negative way. She knew she was in somewhat shock over everything that occurred, with her lackluster eyes and her irregular breathing at times. If only she could scrape the memories off of her thoughts, she would gladly do it. But alas, not everything can be done in life, no matter how headstrong you may seem.

The winds felt great on her bare skin, but it just didn’t feel the same. She used to look around the Sea Princess, at the waves, and the clouds, and think life was an incredible thing. She wasn’t so sure anymore. She didn’t know if she’d ever look at those things and feel the same way again.

“Oi, you lot! Are you bloody mental?! Ya just dropped haf da loot of the ches’ into the bloody watas!” 

She looked over to the direction of the yelling, her feet pulling her to observe the scene. She saw a dark-skinned man confronting a meeker, more timid looking white sailor. He was scratching the back of his neck, refusing to make eye contact. Other sailors were leaning over the railings, pointing towards the waves.

“Adé, I’m sorry… My hand slip and next thing ya know, the chest went overboard.” He explained slowly. It seemed to (Y/N) that the sailor was trying to receive a bit of sympathy on the other man’s part. The expression of the darker-skinned man was quite far from sympathetic. He rubbed at his temples, letting out a deep, agitated breath.

“Kenway ain’t gonna be happy ‘bout this one,” 

Kenway? Who was Kenway? If he’s the captain, then (Y/N) needed to speak with him immediately to try and get off this ship. She didn’t belong here. Hell, she didn’t know anybody and no one knew her. A pirate crew is supposed to have a connection amongst all members. She, being a female, caused enough tension back on the Sea Princess. Who knows what will happen here on this foreign ship if she decides to stay long.

“Oh, please, Adé. Don’t tell ‘im! I’ll be thrown off the ship once we reach land. I’m begging ya, don’t!” 

(Y/N) couldn’t stand it. She didn’t want to see someone get thrown off a crew because of some lost loot. She made her way towards the men, loosening her holsters that held her swords. “Lad, did ya loot fall around ‘ere?” She called out to him, dropping her weapons to the floor with a loud clunk. The two men looked at her with confused expressions, the sailor’s eyes going wide immediately.

“U-Uh, yes!” He stammered, leaning over the railing and pointing down below. “Around there, I believe. T-The ship ain’t moving fast, miss, so I think ya can make it back up before the captain sees.” He was incredibly jittery. Whoever was Kenway must have garnered a lot of respect from his crew. Enough respect to produce fear.

(Y/N) nodded, taking off her boots and setting her hat down. The dark-skinned man halted her with a raise of his hand.

“Miss, what in the hell are you doing?” 

She motioned towards the ocean with a jut of her thumb. “I’m getting the loot for the poor lad, that’s what... _sir_.” She replied, brushing past him smoothly. She relaxed her shoulders and moved her head from side to side. “I just hope there ain’t sharks.” With that, (Y/N) took a running start and dove headfirst into the sea. She could hear someone yelling, ‘We got one going overboard!’ up above as she went down. If she wasn’t busy holding her breath, she would’ve taken the moment to laugh. As if she needed the ship to stop for her.

She hit the water and it felt like a cold, morning refresher. Her eyes shot open once she was underneath. The water was clear enough to see for miles, and she was glad with the fact that no threatening predators were wandering close by. It caused her to truly relax and enjoy the sensation of the ocean water all around her. Her movements were delicate and graceful as she maneuvered through the water, kicking her legs ever so often to propel her deeper towards the sea bottom. She scanned the coral reefs and sand below, looking for a chest of some kind. She didn’t do this just to help out a fellow sailor, but she needed some sort of activity that would keep her mind off negative thoughts. The thoughts that kept festering in her mind. 

Small fish swirled in spirals around her, and she appreciated the small movement. The ocean was filled with animals that were deemed too unimportant because of their size. However, their beauty compared to their much larger brothers remained. The small, vividly colored fish brought a twinkle to her eyes. An amused glint as they moved together like a tight-knit family, getting through the paths of their home together. 

(Y/N) resumed her mission in searching for the chest. She had been holding her breath for about a minute or so and she was beginning to feel the strain in her chest that was begging for air. She needed to hurry.

She swam close to bottom, where an abundance of marine life were congregating together. It was definitely a sight for sore eyes. She was mesmerized by the sand crabs, the majestic rays, and all the other incredibly fish that occupied the area. It was a fast-moving, bright yellow school of fish that led her eyes to where her jackpot was. The fish, almost coincidentally, began moving sporadically around the chest, before parting and making their way to another area of sea. (Y/N) silently thanked them, as she gathered the chest in her two hands, and began rapidly kicking her way up to the surface.

She looked upwards and realized how beautiful the sun looked from underneath the water. It didn’t burn your eyes when you looked directly at it. You could stare at it all day and not get blinded by the end of it. Wouldn’t that be an incredible experience? It all ended, however, when (Y/N)’s head popped up to the surface, gasping her air, and using a hand to sweep her hair out of her face. She was cradling the chest under one arm, and using the other to navigate through the waves.

She looked up the side of the ship to see a crowd of sailors, cheering as she made her appearance. She smirked up at them, nodding playfully. “Are you lot gonna toss me a rope or do I gotta swim the rest of the way with you?” 

Within seconds, members of the crew made an effort to find rope and toss it overboard to reach her. She made her way towards the cord, and tied the chest firmly with the rope. Once she gave a thumbs-up, the sailors pulled it back onto the ship, and she floated there patiently, waiting for the rope to return to pull her back as well. And once she was extracted from the cool waters, she was disappointed to feel the harsh rays of the sun settling back onto her bare skin. The wet shirt and corset clung tightly to her body, make each one of her curves and dips more extravagant to observe. 

She landed onto the deck of the ship and received a bit of applause from the sailors who watched the spectacle. She raised a brow at them, smiling widely and basking in the limelight as she put on her boots, buckled on her holsters, and firmly placed on her hat again. It would take the whole day to dry the rest of her clothes out. 

“Already getting used to the life on board, are ya lass?” 

The familiar voice from yesterday made its reappearance, and she turned around quickly to meet the gaze of the man who brought her here. 

“You. I don’t know who you are or what the hell you think you’re doing, but I want off of this ship.” She ordered, standing her place firmly against the man who she still didn’t know the name of, who towered a few inches above her. She was dripping of seawater, and the man only laughed faintly, looking up at her with those eyes that resembled the color of the sea. Her jaw clenched.

“Lass, I saved you last night when ya fainted. I could’ve left you in the streets for the Spanish to have their way with you, ya know that?” He challenged, crossing his arms defiantly over his chest. He had the cockiest grin smothered on his face, and (Y/N) wanted to punch the shit out of him for it. 

“Really?” She asked, in mock surprise. “Well, ya should’ve just left me then. I got no business being on this damn ship. I want to speak with the captain, if you will.” (Y/N) raised a brow when the blond started to chuckle. It wasn’t just him having a laugh, but soon enough, everyone who was overhearing the conversation also began to snicker. Furrowing her brows in confusion, she looked back at the man, who put his hand out for her.

“My name is Edward Kenway, captain of the Jackdaw. The ship you’re standing on right now.” He smiled, delight filling his eyes to see (Y/N)’s mouth almost drop. She swallowed thickly, her eyes darting from his hand to his face. “And you are?”

God damn it. She was too proud to go down like this. Her egotistical brothers would laugh in her face if she ever brought herself down for a reason. She sucked in her breath and shook his hand firmly. “(Y/N) (L/N). Pleased to meet you, _captain_.” She sneered, looking him up and down. Edward was unfazed by her cruelty towards him. It seemed to amuse him even more, basking in all of the attention she was giving him. 

“May I ask you, (Y/N), why you are planning to leave the Jackdaw so soon? Don’t you like us?” He taunted, both of his eyebrows raising. She pressed her lips into a thin line, knowing that the crew was intently watching the altercation between them. She rolled her shoulders, wetting her lips before replying.

“Actually, now that I think it through completely, I believe that it wouldn’t be that bad staying on this ship for a while longer.” She replied, as Edward’s smile never faltered from his face.

“No?”

She nodded. “I’ll just stay to drink every drop of your damn rum.” She brushed past Edward to head towards the lower decks. “And I’m ready to start doing so just about now!”

She ignored the stares of the men as she stormed her way through the lower decks towards the kitchen. It was where she thought they would keep the rum. On the Sea Princess, rum was lying everywhere in case of a sudden urgency for it. Maybe these fellas were more organized when it came to their drinks. 

She found their stash eventually, after quickly interrogating and charming the cook into lending her a couple of bottles. She thanked him profusely, carrying two bottles with one arm, and already drinking out of one with the other. She made her way to the upper decks again, with the bottle clattering in her grasp. She climbed onto the ship’s bowsprit, managing to balance herself on the narrow piece of outstretched wood. She carefully positioned herself so that she was sitting with her back to the front of the ship, her legs dangling on either side of the Jackdaw’s bowsprit.

She hummed to herself and she chugged down almost half of the bottle she was drinking. She winced, as the taste of the rum was stronger than she expected. This wasn’t the best she had ever drunk, but if it was to ease the pain, then it will do. 

Her mind drifted back to the thoughts she was trying so desperately to avoid. Why fight it if they were just going to come back no matter what she did? She drunk the contents of the bottle, feeling it start to take effect after a few minutes of silent drinking, contemplating about her life. She tossed the bottle into the ocean once it was completely drained of liquid, and proceeding in opening another one.

It was her fault. God damn, it was all of her fault. If only she had stayed with Vayne when it all happened. If only she didn’t listen to the old man when he said to get a new sword. She took a hard swig of liquor, a violent gulp that burned the back of her throat. Her head leaned against the ship, she relished in the pain. She thought back about her crew. She wanted to see them all together again, smiling and clinking their bottles together. She would give anything to see that again. Instead, she was living alone with an unfamiliar crew working behind her. 

Another hard gulp pained her to swallow, but she did it anyways. She was humming sea shanties, dangling her foot back and forth as she watched the waves below. She wondered if she was making enough noise for the whole ship to hear her. She wouldn’t have to worry about that if she was on the Sea Princess, as the crew was used it. She didn’t know if these sailors would enjoy her voice so loud that it shook the clouds themselves. 

Almost halfway through her second bottle, she decided to hum a few tunes softly to herself. Only her ears could hear the notes she was emitting. Her eyes closed, with her love for music and the sounds of the waves her only company. She wished it didn’t have to be like that. 

She had been wishing a lot recently. She never did so before as much as she was doing so now. She had it all then, probably. Now, she was wanting it back. Desperately. 

She hummed, giggling as she remembered how she would tease a blushing Scotty whenever he got too flustered. She would call him ‘sugar’ and ask him silly questions that made him squirm under her stare. She laughed, bringing the bottle rim back to her lips, and downing the rest of the liquid in a painful chug.

Finishing two bottles filled with rum was taking a definite toll on her. She felt as if she were swaying, and realized how there was only a piece of wood between her legs keeping her from falling. The waves ahead were merciless, devouring anything that came their way. She watched birds swoop low to catch fish near the surface. Their soft wings and gentle demeanor. Why did God make birds so delicate when the ocean can be so cruel? 

She used the empty bottle and the bottle still full of rum to tap softly against the wood, making a beat. Soon, she humming the tunes of an old shanty she heard a while back with her crew. She hadn’t sung it in a while, finding no need to. The sea shanty was melancholy, with words that expressed an aching to return to past times. She had always wondered why heartbroken souls produced tunes that were so tragic, and as she sat on the bowsprit of that creaking ship, she realized why.

She watched as one bottle slipped from her grasp and fell into the open ocean. Hanging onto the bowsprit with all of her might, she felt her body rise and fall with the movements of the ship. Seawater would threaten to soak her, eyes clenching tight in fear as the bowsprit edged closer to the waves. She could feel herself holding her breath, taking in the fear and adrenaline badly. Yet, as she experienced it more and more, water touching at the soles of her boots and droplets splashing onto her cheeks, it was the only thing she craved. The danger of it all weakened her limbs, laughing meekly as she relaxed against the ship again. Above her, the crew of the Jackdaw sang.

“ _I hate to sail on this rotten tub. ‘Leave her, Johnny, leave her!’ No grog allowed and rotten grub and it's time for us to leave her_.” She hummed, listening to their voices sing with a passion she could not muster in that moment. Her eyes closed euphorically, with the seagulls above her swirling around the ship. They almost seemed attracted to the voices of the sailors. She simply mused at the idea. Seagulls weren’t that smart. “ _Leave her, Johnny, leave her! Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her! For the voyage is long and the winds don't blow, and it's time for us to leave her_.”

She loved those lyrics. They held a profound meaning that you had to dig deep for. Sailors would sing this song to remember the ships they would leave behind. (Y/N) began to hum along, not only for the ship she so avidly remembers whenever she closes her eyes, but for the crewmembers she’s lost along the way.

“ _We swear by rote for want of more, ‘Leave her, Johnny, leave her!’ But now we're through so we'll go on shore, and it's time for us to leave her_.” Getting into the song, she didn’t realize how heartbroken the sailors truly sounded whenever they uttered the lyrics of the song. Enraptured and concerned, she listened on. “ _Leave her, Johnny, leave her! Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her! For the voyage is long and the winds don't blow, and it's time for us to leave her_.” Chucking aside her second empty bottle and stuffing the filled one into one of her holsters, she leaned back on the ship’s wooden structure and closed her eyes.

She let out a deep exhale through her nose, banging the back of her head against the ship. She swallowed to moisten her dry throat. A temporary relief, as her hand made her way to fetch her third bottle of rum. Her mouth was salivating for the liquor, eyes darkening for the delightful liquid. Her mouth was reaching the rim when a sudden hand reached down and plucked the bottle just inches away from her mouth. 

“Hey!” She called, raising her head to look at the very captain of the ship bring the same bottle to his lips and stealing her drink. “You… Ya got no remorse, do you?” She growled, as he set the bottle aside and took her by the underarms, effortlessly lifting her up against her will and planting her feet back onto the ship’s upper deck.

“So you don’t end up killing yourself, lass.” He said simply, surveying her briefly. “You had two bottles?”

(Y/N) shrugged, her memory faltering. She didn’t recall the exact amount of liquor consumed. She just drank. She almost stumbled, and if it weren’t the rail near her side, she would have surely toppled over in front of Edward. He was musing at her, his head tilted slightly to the side. 

“You’re such a lightweight.” He concluded softly, shaking his head. He turned around and made his way back to the stern of the boat as (Y/N) looked towards him with a face of scorn. 

“Tosh.” She grumbled under her breath, sighing as she held her temples. She had gotten drunk only once before during the daytime and that was when her eldest brother was sent off to a boarding school in France. She was stricken by the fact that she wouldn’t see him anymore, so she snuck into her father’s collection, pulled out the biggest bottle, and drank half of it down. Of course, she ended up throwing up the rest of the day, but she didn’t care. And she never told her parents why.

The familiar type of wretched migraine was forming and her stomach was a whirlpool. She trudged her way to a nearby barrel and plopped down on it, rubbing the side of her face as she went. Sleep-deprived, drunken, and grief summarized her life perfectly. She was thinking of her crew again, and it was beginning to hurt her physically. Her pulse would quicken and her head would go white. She slumped in her seat, with her head in her hands, as she tried to think of anything else that would bring her fonder memories.

It seemed to dishearten her more that the fondest memory she could recall was from 8 years ago. When she was only 12 and was so illusioned with the world. She remember how her family would vacation to Spain for the winter, staying at a cousin’s house during their time there. On the eve of the new year, (Y/N) had snuck off from the house party with her cousin, Cecilia, and with her older brother, managing to sneak into an elegant club. She performed one of her Spanish songs there, the ones her father had deemed ‘unfit for a young woman’. She had gotten an amazing reaction, the crowd wanting an encore. When she was about to, her gaze met the furious eyes that matched hers in color and intensity, fuming in the crowd. Her father didn’t let her hear the end of it after that one.

She beamed at the memory. The crew probably thought of her as mad, laughing to herself about her former glories. Those were her golden days. The least she could do now was think about them and cherish their loveliness.

“Oi, lass!” A voice dragged her out of her thoughts, looking up to whoever was calling her. Her eyes were finally able to go wide again, although she still felt a slight weight to them. “Ya know how to fish?”

(Y/N) straightened her back and crossed her arms. “I have some experience in that sport, sir.” 

“Well, ya know how to check one?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Check one? ...For sickness, you mean?” 

The sailor laughed, dirt covering his neck and the left side of his face. His hands were dripping with ocean water. “Exactly, lass! We caught a big one, ‘ere… but we don’t know to use it. It’s a bit large in the belly.” 

(Y/N)’s face twisted with confusion. She had never heard of a fish like that before. She slowly got up, ready to take a look. The sailor pointed to it, a dead shark. It was about 5 feet in length, and the man was correct. It did have a slight bulge to its stomach. (Y/N) wondered if it ate something too big for it to digest properly. 

“I’ll make sure to save you lot some meat.” She promised, kneeling down to observe the shark at eye-level. Her hand softly brushed over its soft skin. She felt over the bulge, completely captivated on what could be happening with the shark. If it were something bad, it would be a great loss for the crew. This was a mighty catch. 

A few other sailors stared at the thing too, probably wondering the same thoughts. She checked its fins, near its mouth, and nothing seemed amiss. Usually, when a fish had gone bad, the odor was repugnant, and you could feel it with a touch. But this one was fine; the stomach was the only concerning part. 

_Thank you, Scotty_ , she thought. _You really taught me another life skill, you wonderful soul_.

Her hand rested on the shark’s stomach, feeling softly for any bumps or peculiar textures. Her fingers began to add pressure when she couldn’t find anything. The moment she began to press into the shark’s skin was when she finally found out what was wrong with the fish. 

She began to laugh ecstatically, attracting odd-looked stares from the sailors surrounding her and the shark. Clapping her hands together, she simpered adorably. 

“What’s wrong with ‘im?” One sailor asked. (Y/N) got back on her two feet, pointing to the stomach of the shark.

“That boys-” She began, patting around her pockets for her dagger. “-ain’t a him. It’s a her. And she’s carrying pups.”

“The hell!”

“Bloody brilliant!”

“God be good, we’re mothers!”

(Y/N) and the rest of the sailors laughed in excitement, looking at the stomach in anticipation. When she found her small dagger, she unsheathed it with a smooth _schlink_. One of the sailors let out a breath of bewilderment.

“What in the devils you got a blade for?!”

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes at him, one of her hands pressing her hat farther down her head. “We ain’t gonna leave the pups in there, lad. They’ll die and the meat will get contaminated.” She diverted her attention back to the shark, kneeling down once more. Letting out a nervous air, she didn’t know what she was doing. She knew how to skin for meat, not how to deliver shark children. But nonetheless, the experience would be interesting to garner. So with a tremble to her grip, she plunged the dagger deep into the skin of the fish and made a cut down its stomach. The sailors around her gagged and winced at the scene.

With the open wound, the shark’s guts spilled out. (Y/N) shuddered, looking away briefly to control her stomach. The sailors watching made sounds of discontent, shouting and making retching sounds. Cussing was said and many began shielding their eyes. She, however, leveled her breathing and swallowed down her hesitation, no matter how stomach-turning the situation was. 

Her free hand went to lift up the spilled contents, feeling the slimy, slippery organs of the dead shark. It was a mix of light pink and black. She lifted it up and observed it thoroughly, wondering where the baby was. Her tongue stuck out slightly out of her mouth as she worked. She decided to cut into the guts, with the hopes of discovering something there. She looked at her hands, knowing she’ll have to clean them thoroughly after this.

Gasping, she leaned away from the shark when rapid flailing from the pup began to shake the insides of the shark. The sailors were getting rowdy behind her, getting to see a shark birth even if the mother was dead. And (Y/N) had a new occupation up her sleeve : shark midwife.

(Y/N) tightened her grasp on the dagger, poking around the guts to see exactly where the baby shark was. From her studies before she dropped out entirely out of school, she learned about childbirth and delivering children. However, in those cases, there was an actual woman as an example. It would be difficult to figure out the anatomy of a shark, but (Y/N) was expecting them to have at least something similar to a human’s pregnancy. She knew a sac was involved somewhere.

She began to cut away more of the shark’s cartilage, exposing more of its insides. She chopped more into its sides, so its whole underside was open. Was it necessary to cut that much off? No, but (Y/N) was trying her best. She was poking around sheepishly, using her dagger to lift up a piece of flap that used to be apart of the shark’s insides. She didn’t know the names for all of it, maybe a liver or an intestine? All she knew was that it looked bloody disgusting.

More movement occurred, and the sailors were getting restless.

“Chop ‘em out, lass!”

“I can’t just do that!” (Y/N) hissed, focusing on locating the pup. “I want them to be alive when they’re out. If I go stabbin’ about, I might hit them.”

(Y/N) was cutting off more skin so she could see inside more properly. Careful on not chopping off her own fingers, she moved the cartilage aside. She saw multiple long sacs, not knowing what was what. She was nervous to touch them, because she didn’t know what in the hells they were. But when the sac started moving on its own, it confirmed on its own what it was. And the sailors began screaming, celebratory and amazed cusses mixed in with words of encouragement for (Y/N).

“Deliver that baby, lass!”

“There’s more than one.” (Y/N) said aloud, watching the pup flail around in its pink sac. She hesitantly reached her hand to see if she can grab it. Fearful, she quickly managed to touch it before retreating. There was an opening in the sac, and (Y/N) used her dagger to make it bigger. Taking a deep breath, she stuck her hand in, took a firm hold of the pup, and pulled it out of its sac, leaving a trail of fluid in its path. The sailors were losing their minds, hugging each other and cheering (Y/N) for delivering a baby. It began flailing in her hand, and it was slippery, so it almost flew out of her grasp. Grimacing, (Y/N) walked over to the railing and flung the pup into the ocean, bidding it good luck as it went.

Going back to the shark, she continued to pull out 3 more pups, all small and eager to take on the seas by the looks of it. She made sure they all made it to the water alive, before letting out a breath of relief. She couldn’t believe she actually did that.

“Congratulations lass, you’re a mother!” A sailor quipped, causing an eruption of laughter to fill the upper deck. (Y/N) couldn’t help but join in, thankfully taking a rag handed to her and wringing her hands with it, as well as the surgery dagger. Who knew she could be so good as helping animal give birth to their young. Quite an incredible talent, if you asked her at that moment.

She looked back at the sailor who gave her the instruction to inspect the shark in the first place. “I hope you find some good meat to use in that,” She nodded towards the cut-open shark, its insides spilling onto the deck of the ship. He swallowed thickly, looking at the mess. He eventually nodded, patting her roughly on the back.

“Thanks, lass. You were a great help.”

She shrugged nonchalantly, handing the rag back to the sailor. “What can I say? I’m an expert at these things, mate.”

When all the jokes subsided, she returned to sit on one of the barrels. Her headache wasn’t as horrible as it had been earlier. Delivering shark pups managed to help her keep her mind off of certain things, and she appreciated that. It also helped her experience how wondrous the natural world can be, little occurrences like that deepening her bond with the ways of life. She felt incredibly pensive about the whole thing, and she hadn’t even noticed that Edward Kenway was making his way towards her again. She was absorbed in her own world, where only she and the sea existed.

He leaned on one of the mast’s holds, gazing at the woman in admiration. “You don’t fail to impress me, do you, (L/N)?”

She glanced up to him, before her eyes drifted back towards the sea. The effects of the rum were still clouding her senses, but at least she was able to stand straight again. And think straight, for the most part. “I have that impression on many. Seems like the smallest things I do garners the respect of many.”

Edward grinned. “Well, you’re right about that, lass.” He motioned back at his crew with his thumb. “The crew is amazed with what you did. They’ve been asking me if you’re staying with us after make it to land.”

She huffed. “And I keep asking myself why I’m on this ship anyways, Kenway.” He crossed his arms, raising both of his brows in amusement.

“I thought you liked being on the Jackdaw. Tell me when you deliver shark pups on a different pirate ship, lass.” 

She shook her head, trying her best to hold back her laughter. Edward couldn’t, bowing his head as he laughed to himself. “I’m serious, Kenway.” (Y/N) choked out, side-glancing the blond next to her. “I faint and you ride off with me to your own ship? May I ask if I should consider that a kidnapping?”

Edward rolled his eyes. “I told you that the Spanish were overrunning the island. Damn it, lass! Why can’t ya trust my words?” Exasperation hinted in his tone, as (Y/N) stubbornly let out a _hmph_ in response. “I could’ve easily left ya on the island when you fainted. I could’ve left, and not cared whether you survived or not.”

“And why didn’t you?” She prompted. Edward looked at her with half-lidded eyes. Looking at him clearly in the light now, (Y/N) could see that the bastard was devilishly handsome. She would be a lying fool if she didn’t admit he had an allure to him. Whether it was enough to seduce her was another topic, one she would best not answer. 

“I saw your potential. You’re a fierce one, I’ll say. Really clipped me well back there when I was only tryin’ to help.” 

“Sorry for that.” She mumbled, twiddling with her thumbs. She refused to look him in the eyes, those cursed blue eyes of his. “I was just trying to get to my Captain, that’s all… He always spoke about wanting a good, honorable end. That wasn’t it back there.” She chewed on her inner cheek, going quiet when she didn’t have much else to say. They both looked out to skies together, in blissful silence. Only the squawking of the birds above and the creaks the ship made were heard. That, and the occasional swearing from a pissed pirate. 

“Tell me, (L/N).” Edward started, sitting on the empty space on top of the barrel next to hers. His thigh almost rubbed against hers, and she subconsciously moved away from him. (Y/N) had her reasons not to trust a friendly man. Reasons that dated back to when she was still a child. “What had brought you out ‘ere onto the seas? A lass like you couldn’t have just stumbled upon this… this mess of a life.” His hesitation spoke to her more than a million words per minute. She thickly swallowed, gripping the edges of the barrel tightly as she spoke.

“What if I tell you that… that was just it? What you said?” She replied slowly, meeting his gaze as he turned to look at her. It was an incredulous look, one with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. He didn’t believe her.

“Lass…” He laughed breathlessly, and it reminded her of how Scotty used to laugh whenever she told a crude joke or tale. A laugh that held incredulity and doubt. When will a man be able to look her in the eyes and say ‘I trust you’ to her, she will never know. God knows she hasn’t seen much of that. “If you can tell me why that is?”

“Why I’m a pirate?”

He nodded, obviously eager for a story. (Y/N) cracked the knuckle of her left thumb.

“A tale like mine isn’t the type to go professing like an open book, Kenway.” (Y/N) chided, crossing her arms as she felt Edward’s eyes study her intently. She didn’t know if he felt confusion or pestered; she couldn’t decipher well with the sullen look that took over his expression. She would feel that too if someone acted like the way she was now. Too mysterious. Too stubborn. Too much like _her_. “And my tale isn’t one that can be told so easily. It’s a lot deeper than that.”

Edward let out a breath of annoyance, rolling his eyes and his shoulders dropped in defeat. (Y/N) side-glanced him and almost felt a hint of pity for him. She was preventing a man from getting what he wanted. Dear, how she _loved_ to do that. It was a talent, she would repeat to herself. It’s why she came to the age of 20 without a man ever touching her, no matter how much she desired it so. And she plans to keep it that way for as long as she wanted to. 

“Not even a small part?” Edward pleaded.

“No.”

“None?”

“Nope.” She got up out of her seat, straightening out her crinkled clothing. They were still drying from her dive into the open sea. And she reeked of ocean water. How was Edward still able to get near her without complaining of the scent? “My life is far too tragic to be bragging on about to bothersome pirates.” He frowned. “Don’t let me be a burden to you, Kenway.”

She quickly turned and headed for the lower decks again, not letting him get a word in. Her heart was pounding and she felt an accumulation of sweat on her forehead. The way he looked at her was full of sorrow, full of… melancholy. What had she done to him that was so heartbreaking? Not confess her sins to him as if he were some sort of deity to be bowed to? A man like that was no good, she knew it. Her gut knew it. A man like that had no firm place in her life, no matter if he was charming or heroic in some cases. 

She was quickly seething, taking a seat in a conversation between the men with gleeful eyes and a tale to spare. Her polar opposites, and she was allured. 

She hadn’t realized that she had rested her head on her arms, listening to the soothing, vivid counts of these burly men at sea, whether they were battling a whale or taking down a whole ship with his bare hands. The sea was rocking the ship, just as sleep clouded her mind. Overwhelming inevitable.

Her eyes closed, she felt herself drifting off again. The pull on her eyelids growing heavier by the second. It wouldn’t be long before she would be out like a match. 

The last few phrases she managed to hear whilst she was on the verge of sleep were a daze. Jumbled together in her restless mind, one that was begging for a rest. Her somewhat conscious ears were able to trace comments from every direction, only a few actually coherent to her. 

“...caught the marlin with me bare hands!”

“Peter’s got a way with a woman, lad.”

“...those damn eyes of ‘ers. They bewitched or-”

“...’ll get the wench… he always do.”

“...-not if the wench get ‘im first…”

God knows she was trying to stay awake. But her own temptations led her astray. This wouldn’t be the first time, nor certainly the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any feedback/criticism is welcome and appreciated! god knows thats the only way i'll be able to improve. <3


	5. La Ronca de Oro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the reader finds solace in edward when she needs it the most... and edward is starting to grow more fond of our reader as time goes on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i honestly love marc anthony and his music so much that i decided to include it into this chapter. the first song is called 'se fue' and the second one is called 'vivir mi mida.'

# Chapter 5

**La Ronca de Oro**

_Thud._

Her back ached, and she used her arm to shield her vision as she felt movement all around her. Her clenched eyes stayed in that position for a while, only being able to listen to rapid footsteps, and an occasional order or two coming from the upper deck. On the floor of the ship, she was able to hear the water through the wooden boards. A horrifying, yet appeasing feel. She wasn’t going to try to move, but a sharp kick to her leg jolted her.

“Up, lass! We landin’ soon!”

It took her a few moments to process those words, laying on the floor and staring into nothing. But once she did, she took hold of the closest thing near her and pulled herself onto her feet. She grabbed her hat and placed it back onto her messy hair. Following the restless sailors, she ascended up the stairs, staggering her steps. It was nighttime, meaning she had slept from around midday to nightfall. If only her mother would see her now, she would be gravely disappointed.

At least her headache was gone.

She reached the top of the stairs and the sudden jerk of the ship lurched her forward, pressing her midsection into the wooden railings. Fully awake now, her wide eyes looked downwards at the roaring nocturnal waves. They always grew so much more violent when the sun was gone. Trying to impress their lover, the moon, she reckoned. Or trying to get back to her.

She looked over to the front of the ship, hard to distinguish what was what with so much movement. She was able to see, however, an abundance of light. And land. So much land it stretched across the horizon. The harbor of the island was quiet without any other ships. The buildings lining the harbor, however, certainly didn’t seem silent. The buildings looked almost ablaze, booming with life. The ship was close enough to port that (Y/N) could spot a few people on the roads, dancing delightfully across the paths. She watched them oddly, not knowing another island where the people danced throughout the night. From all the islands she had visited on the Sea Princess, the nighttime was the most boring time of day on the land. It was time to reflect or to gaze up at the stars, in (Y/N)’s opinion anyways. Either these people were celebrating or they were incredibly peculiar people.

Nonetheless, the sight brought a smile on her face. The atmosphere on the island was drastically different from Kingston’s. This one housed joy and radiance. The other contained nothing but the worst memories (Y/N) had ever received. She knew she had to forget one day, or at least try to. Forget the experience, the murders, the sorrow. But never the people. 

The Jackdaw was easing its way into port, like a lock and key. She turned back briefly to see the sight of Edward, gallantly guiding the ship to where it was supposed to go. With a narrow-eyed glare tossed over the shoulder, she couldn’t help but continue to stare. The man was quite a sight. The unique look to him was the most alluring aspect about him; the robes, the tied-back blond hair, the dark kohl outlining his eyes. She had never met a man like him, and it worried her greatly. She didn’t know what to _expect_ from a man like him. 

Scowling at herself for becoming too easily distracted, she turned away to focus on the sailors readying the anchor. The thing was massive, weighing a thousand pounds in her eyes. Took six of them to heave it overboard once Edward gave the go. And it only took seconds for the sailors to kick down the wooden beam connecting the ship to the dock. They hurried off the Jackdaw and onto the land, chattering amongst themselves. Their excitement fueling her, she followed in pursuit. 

5 years of pirating made her immune to the questioning stares of the citizens they passed. She never tried to look at them directly. But whenever she did, her dark, hollowed gaze always scared them off. 

She was a nice girl, (Y/N) (L/N) was. Polite when needed, eloquently-spoken. Helped out whenever she could. She wasn’t terribly arrogant, and she was merciful to those she saw fit. She was a smart, level-headed woman. She didn’t go around asking for brawls like other pirates did. She kept to herself, admiring the night skies and catchy shanties stuck in her head. That’s why, for the love of the ever mighty God, do _not_ look at this woman with the wrong eyes. An accusatory look her way will awaken a dormant maelstrom, one that she didn’t enjoy to reveal publicly.

The crew plus her crowded into a tavern, where they all created enough noise to move a mountain. They took up all the seats, became acquainted with all the women, and began tossing coin to the workers to fetch them a cup of whatever they had. The only thing those people could do was give an awkward nod, fetch the coins off the floor, and hurry to get them what they desired. 

The lit, warmly tavern was giving her a dark feeling in her heart. She felt her stomach tightening up, seeing such a lively scene again. It reminded her of how her crew would behave after a long maritime voyage. She began mixing up the faces of her deceased shipmates with the ones she just met. One golden blonde in her mind, was Gillian again. Another toothy grinned sailor was Porter. The one chatting it up with the serving wench was the infamous Winston Rockford. Her mind was playing games on her, and her visioned dizzied by the second. She was losing her wits. Stumbling her balance, she hadn’t felt the body she knocked into.

“You alright, lass?”

Turning around, she met face-to-face with the last man she wanted to talk to at the moment. Swallowing down her fear, she nodded quickly. She refused to look him in the eyes, instead gazing down at his robe’s pockets, and the weapon holds he carried. Feeling the world clench around her, she pushed past him quickly and made her way out, the wind dancing across her flushed skin. 

She swore that if he followed her she would kill him with her bare hands. Silent oath, of course.

Tears were beginning to form around her eyes. Was she alright? Alright? No, of course she wasn’t alright! Her dead crewmates were appearing before her, as ghosts on the faces of the men she just met. What was she supposed to do? Gulp down the drink and ignore it? Let the hallucinations fester until their cold-eyed gazes stayed put on the faces they owned? Her head was beginning to hurt again, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to stomach anymore rum she put her body through. Wiping the accumulating wetness around her eyes, she began walking as far away from the tavern as she could. No matter how lively it seemed, it was being inhabited by the wrong phantoms, the ones whose faces would haunt her forever. She shuddered, hugging herself, not just to protect from her arms from the cold, but from hellish torment surrounding her like a serpentine to its prey.

She refused to cry. She refused, shaking her head to herself, clenching her eyes to prevent more tears from spilling. Somehow, they still managed, and she roughly kept wiping away at the skin underneath her eyes. The harsh contact felt as if she was carving her under-eyes with a dagger, from the repeated abuse she was inflicting on the sensitive area. 

Sniffing, she took a seat on an abandoned crate on the corner of the road, leaning against the lantern pole behind it. The sea was thundering behind her. She tried to remember that she wasn’t on Kingston anymore. She was away, far away. She didn’t have to see those images again, yet they travelled on land, sea, and air to reach her once more. So vivid the damned visions, they were. As if she were there again. As if her hands were still bloodied from the Spanish soldiers, holding Vayne’s corpse in her arms. As if she were crying out for the moon to hear her sorrows, to take pity on her.

Too surreal it was, and she knew it was futile to escape it. She covered both eyes with her hands, trying to calm her senses. Frightened, that if she opened them again she would be in front of the tavern that ruined her dreams and hopes for the future. The one that stripped her of her friends, of her dignity, of her will to live. Times like these, (Y/N) wondered if it were easier to just end it all. To stop the pain, to be unburdened. She believed that death would probably be the calmest state of being, her and the universe, at equilibrium at last. The galaxy would embrace her, carry her off into a land over the mountains and seas. Where her reunion with her fallen friends would begin.

Thoughts like those never lasted long for her, however. They were thoughts too dark for a mind as brilliant as hers. 

As if it were a God-given miracle, she looked up to the sounds of sweet singing, filling the uneasy airs with a ray of delight. Her head rose, and her sore eyes bemused from the sudden rhythm. It was a buoyant tune, one that somehow reminded her of home. Not of the one she had at sea, but the one she had… before. Of the ones she used to sing when she was young and unafraid. This one sounded too much like one of them, and her harsh intakes of breath slowed.

To her surprise, it was in Spanish. It was as if she were being brought back through time, watching the woman dance gracefully across the road with her flowy dress trailing her steps obediently. The phantoms were working their tricks again.

“ _Se fue, se fue, el perfume de sus cabellos. Se fue, el murmullos de su silencios. Se fue, su sonrisa de fábula. Se fue, la dulce miel que probé en sus labios. Se fue, me quedo solo su veneno. Se fue, y mi amor se cubrió de hielo. Se fue, y la vida con él se me fue, se fue, y desde entonces ya solo tengo lagrimas!_ ” 

The woman was heartbroken. The lyrics were heartbroken. Singing about a man who got away, remembering only the features that she loved most dearly about him. Her life was over, and now she only had tears.

She knew their situations were different in more ways than one, but (Y/N) related to the dancing woman. As graceful as she seemed, she harbored a grief (Y/N) recognized too well. Her body didn’t allow her to move from her seat, only watching afar as the woman continued without a care in the world. 

“ _Encadenada a noches de locura. Hasta a la cárcel yo iría con él. Toda una vida no basta, sin él. En mi verano ya no sale el sol. Con su tormenta, todo destruyo. Rompiendo en mil pedazos esos sueños que construimos, ayer._ ”

She began to tap her foot quietly, humming the chorus quietly along with the girl. Her eyes keenly observed her fluid movements. A part of her that she had torn off and burned away was rising from the ashes again. A reminder of what could have been. 

“ _Se fue, me quedo solo su veneno. Se fue, y mi amor se cubrió de hielo. Se fue, ya la vida con él se me fue, se fue, y la razón no la se._ ” The woman dazzled with her energetic movements. The way she threw her arms out, kicked a leg and slid across the ground with the heels of her feet. She was gentle, yet passionate. Delicate, yet strong. (Y/N) was enraptured, staring as though she had fallen in love with this woman. She was a beacon, attracting (Y/N)’s attention and guiding her back into the light. Beautiful and decent, yet with a hint of tempestuous power contradicting her dances. It was stunning, and in (Y/N)’s dreamy haze, she gazed on, moving her shoulders to the beat of the song.

“ _Si existe dios debe acordarse de mi. Aunque se, que entre él y yo el cielo tiene solo nubes negras. La rogare, la buscare, lo juro le encontrare. Aunque tuviera que buscar en un millón de estrellas. En esta vida oscura, absurda sin él, siento que se ha convertido en centro y fin de todo mi universo. Si tiene límite el amor lo pasaría por el. Y en el vacío inmenso de mis noches yo le siento. ¡Le amare! Como le pude amar la vez primera. Que un beso suyo era una vida entera. Sintiendo como me pierdo, ¡por el!_ ”

Was it too much of a coincidence this woman she had never met before talked about the universe so vividly as (Y/N) imagined it? This woman kept tugging (Y/N) in, her curiosity turning into the desire to know more about this mysteriously gorgeous woman. She looked so foreign to her, dark hair, alluring features, natural movements. She was so different, yet, (Y/N) felt as if she had a familiar aura to her. A homely essence. This woman was bringing her back to her times as a young child, spending her vacations in Spain and dancing to the type of music this woman was singing. How was this too well-known to her?

“ _Se fue, se fue, el perfume de sus cabellos. Se fue, el murmullo de su silencio. Se fue, su sonrisa de fábula. Se fue, la dulce miel que probé en sus labios. Se fue, me quedo solo su veneno. Se fue, y mi amor se cubrió de hielo. Se fue, se fue, ya la vida con él se me fue, se fue, y la razón no la sé._ ” The woman ended with a gradual descent to her knees, her dress puffing up, then drifting downwards as well. (Y/N) let out a quiet gasp, staring as the woman kept her head down, her hair flowing over her face, covering her expression.

Just as she was about to stand and applaud, the woman ran off, disappearing from her sight. And a voice called to her, disrupting the peace she desperately was trying to cherish.

“Lass, what are ya doin’ out here?”

Her head turned to look at Edward walking towards her, worry glazing his features. She looked back to where she was. The woman. The fabulous dancer that relieved (Y/N) from her destructive thoughts. Her eyebrows knitted upwards, wondering why she parted ever so quickly. Did she not notice her, admiring her from afar? Shoulders drooping, she shook her head at the thought, succumbing to defeat.

“Nothing, Edward.” She sighed despondently, taking a seat back onto her crate. It creaked under her weight. “I needed a bit of air, that’s all.”

“Ya had me worried when I saw you storm off,” He admitted, raising a brow at the girl. She kept staring at the spot where the woman had been just minutes ago, singing with a fervor. If she could have, (Y/N) would’ve chased after her, begging to ask who she was and how… how was she so familiar to her. Her constant thoughts ridding her mind made her forget Edward was standing next to her, with his arms crossed and half-lidded eyes staring down at the her. She jumped slightly when she realized he was still standing there. 

“Ah... Sorry ‘bout that..” She stumbled over her words, still trying to understand the situation. She was so utterly confused. She just wanted to speak with someone who would comprehend her feelings. “Shouldn’t you be in the bar? Ya couldn’t have come out here just for me, Kenway.”

He let out a deep breath, his shoulders brushing against her bare ones as he sat on the crate next to her. “I actually did just that.” He said, crinkling his nose. “You scared me, lass. You looked as if ya saw a ghost.”

She stiffened again, and Edward noticed this. He put a soft hand on her shoulder, moving forward slightly to get a good look at her face.

“(L/N)? What’s happening with you? Why are you acting like this?”

“I keep seeing it, Edward.” She uttered in a whisper, her voice frail and her eyes glossy. “Kingston… Vayne… My crew. It’s not something I can forget in a day or two. Walking into that tavern… I started… seeing my dead crew’s faces pop up even when they’re not supposed to. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think.” She met his warm gaze, his eyes lighting up once those weary ones of hers moved his way. They could’ve stayed that way forever and Edward would’ve been fine with it. He looked at her as if she were the ocean, so ethereal in beauty, so dangerous to love. “I thought I was losing it. And so I sat here, and..” 

Her words stopped, and Edward’s gaze dropped. “And?” He prompted, sitting upright and staring ahead, just as she was. He acted indifferent because he didn’t want to care too much. He didn’t want to listen, but at the same time, he would give anything to. 

“A woman,” She hesitated, wetting her lips as she started to speak. “A woman was dancing around here. She had a white, flowy dress, and she was real pretty. She sang in Spanish and danced beautifully. She reminded me of… of my old life. When I was a girl, living a life full of adventure, mischief, and childish interest. When I used to think innocently of the world and what it contained,”

When she stopped speaking, Edward breathed again. He had been listening to her every word, taking them to account. His actions made it seem as if he weren’t, but God knows he had started to adore the dreamy-eyed girl. No matter how much he tried to deny himself. “Did you use to sing?” He whispered, almost regretting his question. (Y/N) held her hands together, her thumbs brushing against each other.

“Yes. And I loved to do it.” She replied, looking down in shame. She was saying too much, but she didn’t care anymore. She needed a release. “I used to sing about anything. The stars, the ocean, the fruit vendor down my street.” She laughed, which made Edward reciprocate the action. “I had a powerful voice, one I still use today to sing shanties… But, back then it was more passionate… a pure passion for life that I don’t have anymore. When my family and I would visit Spain, I would sing their music aloud, to the disgust of my father.”

“Disgust?” 

“He was a respectable British man. My mother was a respectable Spanish woman. Me and my brothers were decent British-Spaniard kids, with me being the worst of the lot of us. Why?” She looked to Edward briefly, and when he shrugged whilst shaking his head, she continued. “Because I was singing the songs of harlots. The music that those women would chant to earn their coin for the night. He hated it so much, while I _loved_ the damn tunes. I would sing to my brothers, my maids, my friends at school. My brother snuck me off into a singing competition once, and my father came and dragged the two of us back home, fuming. My life was fine then,”

“Then why did you choose this life?” Edward pressed his lips into a fine line, and (Y/N) looked at him with a smirk forming on a face. It was humorless.

“Because being a respectable girl of high-class Britain came with a price. To be married off to an equally wealthy family, bear his children, and spend the rest of your days caring for them.” She spat out distastefully. “I was only 15 when they were about to do that to me. They would’ve had to kill me first before I fucking married that sack of shit.”

Edward chuckled. (Y/N) was so sweet, yet she still could be so vulgar. She was a perfect mix of contradiction that he had a weakness for. It made him regret ever looking at any other woman, when someone so perilous and chaste had appeared in his life only a day prior. He wasn’t going to let her go for anything.

“When they announced it at the boy’s birthday, that Miss (Y/N) (L/N) would be his bride to be, while the bastard pissed his pants in joy, I had escaped and began to run off into the streets. My dress was ruined and my feet were aching from the shoes I was wearing. I dumped those things in the nearest waste bucket and ran towards the harbor. God, I remember I was somewhat crying, and I was a blubbering mess. Scared shitless and wanting to run away, I met Vayne. The only man who believed that I could truly be great.” She crossed her arms over her chest, remembering the pirate that changed her life. “I was with him 5 years, until yesterday.” 

Edward let out a breath, a sympathetic one. He was slouching, his head resting on his elevated fist. His elbow uncomfortably digging into his knee, but he did it anyways just to look at (Y/N). With the moonlight hitting her skin just as it was, he was content. “I’m sorry, lass. If only ya didn’t land in Kingston that day, those bastard Spaniards wouldn’t have gotten your crew.” 

She knew Edward was only trying to help, but that comment made her feel worse. Thinking about how she begged Vayne to just head straight to Havana. Before taking the route that made them encounter a Spanish ship. Before they all met their ends.

“I don’t think I’ve asked you officially to join my crew, lass.” Edward begins, a small smile forming on his lips. (Y/N) squinted at him, before he straightened his posture, and looked at her straight in the eyes. “(Y/N) (L/N), would you join my crew on the Jackdaw?”

She opened her mouth to protest, but realized, if they left without her, what would she do then? She had nowhere to go, no one to run to. She would rot away on this island, no disrespect to the people. She pushed her hat farther down her head and let out a deep exhale. “What other choice do I got, Kenway?”

Edward’s wide grin never faltered, nodding in approval. “Good. I would’ve dragged you along anyways if you said no.”

“Then why ask?”

He shrugged. “Consent is vital to me. I couldn’t go around kidnapping you for a second time in a row, don’t you agree?” He purred out the last part, nudging her shoulder with his own. She let out a breathy laugh, pushing him away from her.

“And what about you, Captain Kenway?” She teased, looking at him with a raised brow and a slightly parted mouth, the ends of it tilted upwards slightly. “I bare my soul out to you, and I get nothing in return?”

“Well, we barely know each other.” He argued. (Y/N) scowled.

“Exactly. And I bared my soul out to you!” She repeated in disbelief as Edward doubled over in laughter. He held out a hand, signaling that he would speak after he’s done laughing in her face. It was difficult not to laugh as well, and (Y/N) was cracking up herself. 

“Alright, alright, lass.” He coughed, clearing out his throat. He stuck his hand in his pocket, pulling out a gold doubloon. “Let’s play a game. If this coin lands on heads, I’ll tell you a bit about myself. If this coin lands on tails, you have to let me get you a drink at the tavern. I’ll pay.”

She glowered at him. “It’s a frustrating situation for me anyways, Kenway.” He ignored her remark, rolling his eyes playfully. Resting the coin on the nail of his thumb, he flicked it upwards. They both watched in unison as it spun around multiple times in the air, before landing at their feet. (Y/N) leaned in close to look at it. The signature bird that marked the head of the coin faced her, and she let out a victorious exhale through the nose. “You’re telling me three things, Kenway.”

He groaned, reaching over to grab his coin and put it back in his pocket. “Fine. I’m from Swansea, I used to be a privateer and… I stole the ship I now call mine.” 

“You bloody thief.” (Y/N) remarked, shaking her head. “I still bared my soul to you, Kenway. You owe me.”

“That’s why I’m offering you a damn drink, wench.” He countered, opening his arms out wide, trying to reason with her. Once she got up from her seat, so did Edward. They walked side-by-side, speaking about the stars, and their favorite constellations. (Y/N) was able to point out quite a few distinctive ones, and Edward spoke about more obvious ones. She mocked him for that, which earned her a rough slap on the shoulder. 

“Get my drink and I’ll drink it out here. I don’t want to go in there.” She told him, and he only let out an exasperated, drawn-out sigh before nodding at her request.

“Of course, lass.”

Once he had ducked inside the building, (Y/N) made her way closer to the harbor. The beach of the island was clear from flaws, stunning in sight. The sand looked almost too good to touch, and the sea hit the shoreline in a passionate embrace. The sounds of the ocean calmed her, and with the moon glowing so brightly above, the whole thing was serene to her. She was at ease. 

She found a small dune of sand, and carefully lowered herself to sit on it. She made herself comfortable, stretching out her legs in front of her. She didn’t feel tired at all, her nap had done her well. Her throat felt terribly dry, though. Quenching it with rum would worsen the effects, but that was something she would deal with later on.

She was still in disbelief on how close she was getting with Edward. They had only met, yet it seems as if they had spent a lifetime by each other’s side. He was the one who saved her from the Spanish’s wrath, dragging her away against her will. If she stayed, she surely would’ve gotten slaughtered. She didn’t know how to thank him for that. He was the one who got her off the damned island, too. She could be as indignant to the man all she wanted, but she had to admit he was her savior. She was sure they would make good friends, the pair of them. 

The smell of the sea was intoxicating. Her skin was tight with the seawater that never fully washed away from her early-day swim. Her hair was tangled and rich with sea salt, the waviness to her strands even more so extravagant than when she normally washes it. She knew she needed a bath, but the smell on her was so soothing. It’s as if the oceans became a part of her -- just like she always wanted. No matter how much she wanted to feel like a true pirate, a small part of her heart always tells her she would never be one. Because she was too merciful. Because she kept her family and childhood and heavy lost dreams etched in the back of her mind. She would never be able to be able to get over them all, and those weaknesses would probably end to her ruin.

She dug her boots’ heels into the sand, making an imprint of her sole. There was nothing more beautiful than watching the sea at night. Because there is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it’s sent away. Would she ever find a love so pure and strong as that? To have someone keep coming back to her despite her objections -- to fight for her?

“Why, lass, you look deep in thought there. Penny for your thoughts?”

Edward handed her a pint of rum as he sat down on the dune next to her, letting out a satisfied breath. The heavy cup in her hand pained her wrist, so she took a hard swig from it to relieve her thoughts and the pressure on her hand. She grimaced, swishing the liquid around its container. “I won’t be able to finish this,”

“Finish what you can, lass. I’ll drink whatever you leave behind.” Edward smiled, holding up his cup for her to clink. Once she did, the two of them both took a long drink out of their cups. (Y/N) wrinkled her face up, knowing what too much rum in a day can do to somebody. Edward, on the other hand, felt more alive than before. 

They sat there in silence. (Y/N) felt like she should say something, knowing he would probably think of her as bland if she didn’t. Staring out towards the waves, she gave a small sniff, holding her cup as you would with a cup of tea; with two hands. She crossed her legs, counting the stars above, knowing there were too many to begin with. She wanted an idea. “Have you ever missed someone, Edward?”

Her question took him by surprise. She knew, because the lad stopped drinking and he sat quietly a moment. Most likely to conjure up a sufficient answer. “Well… yes, I suppose. My parents, my friends, people like that.”

“Ever missed someone you know you’ll never see again?”

His face dropped, and so did his cup. “Lass, you can’t keep thinking about… about them, yeah?” He said the last part quickly. She felt justified, at the most. It was hard for him to say, too. “What them Spaniards did to your crew was… unspeakable. You don’t do that to anyone, no matter they were a pirate.”

“I’ve been praying more lately.” She deadpanned, no hint of emotion on her face. “It gives an illusion of relief, I think. ‘Cause I feel better when I do it. I pray that somewhere, somehow, he’s safe.”

“If I was as religious as you, I’d pray for your captain, as’well-”

“Not Vayne,” (Y/N) sighed, shaking her head. “I know that he’s gone. I know that he’s dead. I was talking about-” Scotty. The word was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t find the heart to say it. “-an old friend. It would be a treasure to see him again.”

“You are way too young to be suffering as much as you had, lass.” Edward commented softly, gazing up at her. She knitted her brows together in confusion.

“How old are you then?”

“22.”

“Well you’re really over-reacting, Edward. I’m 20.” She didn’t look at him when she said that. But if she did, she would have seen a mischievous glint form in his eyes, and a cheeky grin lift the corners of his mouth. He looked away quickly. “And I thought I was the youngest pirate around. Look at you, 22 and the captain of your own ship and crew. You’re better than me, aye.”

“Or maybe we’re equals. Ever thought of that, perchance?” He replied, with the rim of his cup resting on his bottom lip. (Y/N) would’ve never guessed that a man like Edward could ever respect her in a way that he would respect a fellow male pirate. Edward was shaping himself to become a diamond, in her eyes. Rare, charming, and a delight to look at. It’s a relief that he found her in Kingston, not a mindless bloke who would’ve taken advantage of a woman in distress. When she felt Edward’s calloused hands pulling her off Vayne, she thought that was the case at first, but his actions towards her have proven to be of other motives.

She clicked her tongue. “To be equal to you means that I’d need to have a big enough ship like the Jackdaw.”

“Then, maybe I’ll help you get such a vessel. But, you’ll have to stay with me awhile, if you’re that ambitious.”

“Who said that I was ever leaving?” She asked nonchalantly, raising the lip of the pint to her mouth, but not making the effort to drink. Edward turned to look at her again, and she didn’t know how to describe his look. Whether it were a puzzled or a wondrous one, a mix of both, or neither, (Y/N) didn’t know. It frustrated her to not know how someone was feeling, but with Edward, it rather enchanted her. It made him more enigmatic, drawing her into him more. She felt the same with the quiet, then-18-year-old Scotty when he first joined the crew of the Sea Princess. Throw a little kindness his way and he would open up like a book. She would never forget him.

“I wouldn’t want you to leave anyways, lass.” Edward hummed, his eyes beginning to droop as a result of the amount of rum he was depositing into his system. He would begin to chant nonsense, and (Y/N) would have to hear the bulk of it. My, was Edward Kenway a delight!

“Have any destinations after this, Captain?” (Y/N) changed the topic, knowing they reached a dead end on their conversation when the same ensuing silence drifted over them once more. Edward shifted in his seat, a small shrug lifting his shoulders. 

“I was thinking about going to Nassau. I got some.. business there to resolve.” When (Y/N) gave him a dubious look, he clarified. “Nothing bad, lass. I just need to finish some business.”

(Y/N) hummed. “Is it _your_ business? Or someone else’s?”

One look into his eyes gave her the answer. It didn’t take long for the seemingly serious eye contact between them to turn into rolling fits of laughter. She had a wide grin on her face, one that showed all of her teeth. Her eyes crinkled with elation, and Edward became more amused by just watching her laugh. She held onto his shoulder to avoid falling on her side. He truly couldn’t have been happier. 

“You’re such a child, Edward.” She giggled out, her sides beginning to hurt from laughing. 

“Aye. Children manage to find light even on the darkest of nights. I know that well.” He said, something too wise and knowledgeable to be brought up from someone like him. Instead of questioning it, she rather relished with the new information. She pondered, trying to decipher if the phrase he just said had any profound meaning. She raised her chin to look at the stars for a response, their twinkle containing secrets no man has the key to. Light from long-dead stars still journeyed so far.

She wanted to add her two cents, but she found the sounds of the ocean and the slight breeze rushing by more calming than anything she had to say. So in that position they stayed. The avid stargazer whose washed-up dreams haunted her every waking moment, and the pirate captain who gazed discreetly at one of the most captivating things life had put in his path. He knew keeping (Y/N) (L/N) around in his life would ruin him, as a woman like that is one you fall hard for. Already, he was feeling himself slipping into her clutches. Her beautiful eyes, her joyful laughter, her ability to make conversations easier to partake in. He knew his knees would buckle at her feet when he saw what she was truly capable of. Instead of fighting against the feeling, he embraced it. He wanted to know what it was like to love blindly again, not caring about the consequences of that same passion. With (Y/N), he knew he would give her his all if she’d let him. God knew he already was doing so.

Life was good. Life was merciful. Life was giving him a second chance to mend past mistakes and start anew. His proof was the piece of celestial beauty sitting next to him, dozing off as she stared up at the stars. He let out a soft sigh, taking in all of her features and committing them to memory. He wasn’t used to worshipping invisible deities, but he would begin to do so if they were responsible for bringing (Y/N) into his life.

 

-x-

 

The rest of the night, they spoke about smaller, irrelevant topics until the two of them almost fell asleep on each other. That’s when, with (Y/N) helping Edward not trip over his own feet, they decided to head back into the closest tavern and get themselves a room to sleep in. She made sure Edward was in a deep sleep and safe, even taking the liberty to remove his weapon holsters and setting them to the nightstand. Her eyes were closing and threatening to shut permanently with her haggard movements, but she continued to make sure Edward was taken care of. The man looked incredibly tranquil as he slept, and it warmed (Y/N)’s heart. The slight moonlight coming through the open window put a delicate touch of light on his still features, an image worthy of endless praise. She left his room content with their overall relationship, treating herself to a good night’s rest because of it.

When the sun began peeking over the horizon earlier on in the next day, (Y/N) managed to sit up straight out of bed, cracking her joints and stretching out her limbs. She rubbed her eyes until she was seeing shapes. Her clothing still felt somewhat wet, and she grumbled and complained to herself aloud. Somehow, she was going to need to find a new set of clothes before these ones sent her insane. 

The tavern was just about empty when she went downstairs for a bucket of water. The barmaid sent her a polite nod and she reciprocated, heaving the wooden pail up the stairs and back into her room. She also remembered to ask if the lady had a scrub she could use, and she gladly accepted an ugly, misshapen one with an abundance of cracks and dents in its handles from heavy usage. It was something, rather than nothing, and she was grateful nonetheless.

Once in her room, she started with her arms, dabbing water gingerly on her skin and lightly scrubbing its surface. It felt terribly uncomfortable without the use of any soaps. She was scratching at her skin, but found it worthwhile when the dirt was surely coming off. Her arms, her chest, her neck and face were all scrubbed clean, no matter how gruelling the procedure was. She wouldn’t bear it if she spent another day with sea salt clinging to her skin. She still smelt of it though, which she didn’t mind.

She removed articles of clothing and cleaned every last inch of her, making sure no grain of salt or sand was left behind. Thoroughly satisfied, she concluded her beauty session by washing the scrub, adjusting her hat and slipping into her clothes, and carefully tugging out the pail of dirty water down the stairs and outside into the grass to be disposed of. She returned all instruments to the barmaid, thanking her profusely for letting her use it.

(Y/N) was just about to head out when a hoarse voice from the foot of the stairs called out to her. “Ya ain’t leaving so soon, are ya?”

Both eyebrows raised, she turned around to see Edward, with his weapons and robes almost anew and his smug expression ever so apparent. He sent the barmaid a wink as he passed, striding suavely over to (Y/N) and towering a few inches above her. Her nose flared in annoyance at the height difference, and she pushed him away from her. “Sod off, Kenway.”

He chuckled, following in her footsteps to wherever she was going to, much to her annoyance. She looked over her shoulders to see him, hands behind his back and his chin held high, observing the island’s villagers as they passed. She narrowed her gaze, heavily suspicious of the man.

“May I get ya something, Kenway?” She asked loudly, not stopping her movements. Neither did Edward. 

“Just wanted to see where ya stroll off to in these times of the morning. If you ain’t busy, I was planning on asking you for some help.” Her eyebrows raised at him, turning her upper body to look at him. He was smiling. “I knew that’d catch your attention, lass.”

“What kind of help?”

“I wanted to get some more mates for the ship. My ship’s too big to contain such a meager amount of sailors working it.” Edward explained. (Y/N) decided to stop, looking at the captain directly. 

“And you want me to do what? Provide moral support for when you do so?” Her wry expression caused Edward’s eyes to widen. He stopped about a foot in front of her, raising his hands up in surrender. “If I do this with you, I want to be able to do something as well. I’m sick of doing nothing, Kenway.” Edward nodded in understanding, crossing his arms across his chest and giving her a sly raise of a brow.

“Did you think I would just allow you to come to watch?” (Y/N) scratched the back of her head, refusing to look him in the eye. She shrugged lamely, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. He rolled his eyes, letting out a sound of disbelief. “Even if you did just to observe, I’d be fine with it. But in this case, I’m inviting you to _help_ , (L/N).”

“Better be so.” She finalized, beginning to make her way up the path that led into the town. Edward couldn’t do much else but follow along. He watched her from behind, the way her feet moved, her boots. His eyes wandered up instinctively, stopping to admire her ass. Edward had to admit, he had never seen a woman with as much curve (Y/N) had, and it almost left him agape. It was stunning, really, and it took him a while to tear his eyes away from the sight. 

He let out a sigh, knowing well what this woman was doing to him physically without her even realizing it. He closed his eyes tightly, hoping that his temptations would cease, if only for today.

“There are numerous pirate hangings on these types of islands,” (Y/N) thought aloud, as they reached closer to the top, where the island’s plaza and main buildings were located. She panted, her hands resting on her hips once the ground leveled out again. She looked around, and she couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. The buildings, the people, looked average and merry. It doesn’t look like any distraught event had ever hit this small island, with the way these people acted. Edward didn’t seem too convinced, however, letting out a low growl. 

“This can’t be.” He shook his head, pointing to the plaza as he looked to (Y/N). “Every island has at least one pirate hanging. There would be posters or a herald on the corners, chanting about it to summon a crowd.”

He began to pace, rubbing his temples. (Y/N) watched him, realizing he must desperately need more mates to be acting like this.

Her eyes brightened up with the realization. These people spoke Spanish.

(Y/N) eyed a small group of women around a fruit stand, talking quietly amongst themselves. They looked harmless and the type to gossip. Their simple dresses and the way they were speaking to each other in such a matter-of-fact way prompted (Y/N) to approach them, her hands behind her back. She ignored Edward’s frantic hisses to her as she invited herself into the conversation.

“Hola, señoritas. Estas frutas son deliciosas, ¿no?” She started, reaching for a green apple in the fruit stand, twirling it in her hand. The women giggled softly, nodding and picking out fruits for themselves as well.

“Si, si. ¿Eres de aquí, niña? No te hemos visto antes.” One of them remarked, looking to (Y/N) with soft eyes. She wasn’t judgemental or accusing, at the least. She liked these women.

“No, yo soy visitando familia. Esta isla es preciosa, es increíblemente acogedor.” (Y/N) was implementing small chat, not wanting to dive into the topic of pirates with these women. They would think something was wrong with her if she did. She knew she would think so.

“¿Ah, pero no se entero?” 

(Y/N)’s attention jerked to the woman who spoke. Her eyes were swinish and small, but (Y/N) didn’t care. “¿De que?”

“Encontraron unos piratas en el lado sur de la isla . Eran de Gran Bretaña y oí que están siendo juzgados en este momento.” (Y/N)’s stomach lurched, and she let in a shaky intake of breath while the rest of the women let out loud gasps and covered their mouths. If they were being tried, they were going to be hanged soon. She clenched her jaw.

“Gracias, muchachas. ¡Pero mi mama necesita ayuda en cocinando!” She yelled out the last part because she was already beginning to run down the way they came. She sprinted past Edward, who gave her a bewildered look, before sprinting after her. 

“(Y/N)! The bloody hell are you doing?!”

“Pirates on the south side of the island! They’re being hanged soon!” 

“You couldn’t tell me before you started running?! And you speak Spanish?!”

“I’m half-Spanish, Edward!”

Their conversation was mostly yells being thrown back and forth with each other. (Y/N) had one hand on her hat as she and Edward bolted through the streets of the island, trying to reach the trial of the pirates. She didn’t know how many were caught, regretting that she didn’t ask. The adrenaline pumping through her veins was her fuel for most of the sprint, but as they grew closer to the southern area of the island, Edward was catching up to her stride. He grabbed her forearm and tugged her forward. 

They stopped to catch a breath, (Y/N) doubling over and heaving out deep breaths, raising her wrist to her mouth to try and calm down her breathing. Edward patted her back, still looking around to try and find where the pirates were being held. “You sure you heard correctly?”

“I had to!-” She coughed, and Edward rubbed circles into her back. “-if that woman was wrong I’m running all the way back to beat her ass.”

“Aye, lass, you have a temper when you’re tired.” Edward teased, as (Y/N) slowly straightened her back, coughing and breathing heavily as she went. Her chest rose and fell with the pattern of her deep breaths. She felt light-headed from the sudden sprint, and Edward had his hand on her shoulder, a small comfort as they walked the rest of the way.

“You hear anything?”

“Nope.”

They walked gradually, checking around corners and around buildings to see if they were able to catch anything. Edward could have retreated his hand from (Y/N)’s shoulder by then. Yet, it descended and rested on the small of her back, a protective shield around the smaller female. She didn’t seem to mind because she hadn’t noticed the lingering contact. 

They stopped abruptly, Edward tugging her back from moving forward as they finally found what they were looking for. 5 pirates stood at the gallows, all with nooses around their necks. A small crowd of people stood watching the scene. The men struggled uncomfortably with the ropes around their necks, and Edward made the intuitive to take (Y/N) by the hand and help her up the side of the building, so the both of them could get a good vantage point. 

They ducked behind the small barriers the building’s rooftop provided. (Y/N) felt around for her daggers and Edward began pulling out his pistols. (Y/N) quickly placed her hand on his, halting his movements. He felt his heart skip a beat with the contact.

“Are you losing it, Edward?” She hissed quietly, staring down at his pistols. “Those guns will draw too much attention to us!”

“You afraid of a little action, lass?” He baited, sending her a smirk. She roughly smacked his hand, and took a firm hold of her daggers. She adjusted her position to be resting on her knees, her upper body visible from above the barrier. Edward followed, watching (Y/N)’s cautious movements. She was deep in concentration, eyeing the nooses and the pirates’ heads. Hesitant, she let out a deep sigh. 

“Fuck my life.” 

She tossed the dagger ever so delicately, aiming straight for the ropes holding one of the pirates by the neck. The dagger perfectly nipped the rope clean, allowing the pirate to move freely again. (Y/N) had taken the time and excitement of that one shot to continue shooting her daggers meticulously until all of them were freed. The man in charge of hanging them was utterly dumbstruck, and Edward had peeked out from the barrier with his pistol in hand, ending the life the poor man with a boom. 

“Jaysus, lass.” Edward laughed out in awe, his gaze flickering to (Y/N). “Your aim is spot-on!”

“I learned from the best,” She moved over to the side of the building, using its ridges and jutted out parts of the architecture to help lower herself and plant her feet back onto the ground. Edward, on the other hand, had thrown himself off the building and landed gracefully on the ground. She winced, expecting that he had broken a bone with such a fall, but when he got up as if it were nothing, she became rather impressed by the pirate. 

The both of them rushed over to free the pirates from their restraints, the five them blubbering incoherently, a mix of ‘thanks’ and ‘God bless you both’. Edward began to tell them about the conditions of their act of bravery to save their asses; to join his crew. All of them agreed immediately, noting that they had no job after their ship had been sacked. 

“We’ll be happy to assist ya in times to come.” One of them nodded eagerly, rushing off with his group. A pleased Edward watched them go, and (Y/N) had been picking up the daggers she had flung from the rooftop. They had wedged deep into the floorboard of the gallows. She grit her teeth, tugging the blades out with her might. 

“Lass, you really are something special.” He mused, as (Y/N) looked up at him from under her brows. She was polishing the blades, making sure they were as sharp and clean as could be, before pocketing them once more. She was silently flattered by the comment from Edward, refusing to let it be known to him. She pressed her lips into a thin line, eyes to the floor as she made her way past him. 

“It was really nothing. Child’s play.” She shrugged it off as if it were nothing. Edward’s mouth was left ajar at such a comment.

“Nothing? As if having aim like that is something to be shameful of. I have never seen someone who could do that.”

She raised her head so she was looking straight ahead. “I seem to be the first person to do a lot of things to you.”

Edward chided. “Maybe you’re from another world.”

(Y/N) adjusted her hat, feeling the brims of the fabric. She felt around to make sure the feather was still intact. She didn’t want to reply to Edward’s comment. It had made her feel as if she were someone extraordinary, when she felt that his thoughts of her really weren’t the case. She didn’t see herself of grandacious or superior, someone to look up to. She was just doing what was needed to survive. If only she could understand why Edward took moments like those to sneak in his tiny compliments. Her disregard of the greater situation ensuing was stunning. And it was frustrating the seven hells out of Edward.

Their travel back up towards the tavern was filled with uneasy tension. Each of them wanted to say something to each other, but they just didn’t know what to say. It used to be so easy for (Y/N) to strike up a conversation with Scotty. Hell, it could’ve been about the dirt on the ground and they could be speaking for an hour about it. With Edward, the desire to speak with him was there, but the hesitancy held her back. It wasn’t in her character to be acting that way. She wanted to know why she would act like this in front of Edward and no one else. Was it because she felt beholden to him? Was it because she thought of Edward more as an ally to do business with, more than friend? No, that wasn’t right. (Y/N) could hold conversations with Edward, she did so last night. Was it the fear of being too dependent on him driving her away? 

That sounded about right.

On Edward’s part, he would love to have day-long talks with (Y/N). Any topics that would be brought up, they could talk about it. She wasn’t boring, and she was rather witty when it came to jokes. Edward didn’t want to push his advances with her. With other women, he could have them around his arm with a beckoning hand. And those women would know what to do with a man who needed relief for the night. (Y/N)… wasn’t like those women. She was different in that way, and Edward could see it. She was innocent when it came to men. At least, that was what he was beginning to think. He needed further confirmation, but the facts in his head were aligning for him. And it captivated him even more so, to say the least. A woman with an incredible body, beautiful face, and a strong personality? A god amongst humans. But, that same woman to have no experience with a man? Unbelievable. It was driving Edward closer to the point of wanting to form something _more_ with her. Wanting to do things with her. He would hide it for as long as it took, but the need was there. He would have to take it out on other women later to satisfy the desire, the passion, he was beginning to have for this woman.

God, he was truly becoming a mess. He was having indecent thoughts for a woman who has shown him nothing but kindness. Maybe someday, somehow, he would show her his budding infatuation with her. He just prayed it wouldn’t be when he is drunk.

“Will you be fine from here? I need to find some new clothes.” (Y/N) jutted her thumb to the direction of the town as they reached the front of the tavern. Edward clenched his jaw, nodding solemnly. She flashed him a smile as she began speeding off towards the steep path they used earlier on. He watched after her, imagining if a man like him could ever deserve a woman like that. 

“Good God,” He muttered, shaking his head. “I need a drink,” Holding his temples, he ducked his head as he stalked back into the tavern.

-x-

When nightfall fell upon the island once more, that same excitement that was there the previous night returned. Even more than the night prior, (Y/N) observed, as more people were out, either at a tavern or dancing out in the streets with their beloveds. 

She had seen what the harbor was like during the night, but what she truly wanted to see was what the plaza was like at night. More people congregated there, since more houses were up there. She found herself being tempted to sneak off from the tavern to visit the area. She didn’t want to slip away like that, however. If one of her superiors saw that, they would probably deem her as uneducated or rude. Yet, her legs were fidgeting, wanting to stand and walk out of there to join the true excitement.

Taking a good look around the pub, many of the men were busy trying to impress the women on their arms. Or, they were flat out drunk talking to their mates, who were equally as drunk. They would bang on tables and laugh with wide mouths. 

She was tapping impatiently on the counter with the side of her thumb, her feet dangling off the stool she sat on. She looked up only when the barmaid would make a sudden noise. She would send her an apologetic smile and they would continue with their business. (Y/N) would go back to staring into her almost-empty cup, one that she didn’t even drink much out of. She poured much of it into another bloke’s cup.

She was desperate into getting out of the pub by now. What was she to do there? She had no one to talk to, other than the occasional drunken sailor who would try to speak with her with their breaths heavy with drink. She would duck away from their advances, sending them away as politely as she could. They would grumble and scoff, but (Y/N) didn’t care.

In an environment like that, who could ever be pleased with themselves? If her legs had a brain of their own, they would’ve been long gone. She was only leaning against her fist, tracing her finger along the cracks of the counter, listening to the conversations around her. None of them sparked her interest, only talking about the sea or fish, or things more provocative than that.

“ _Edward!_ ” A high-pitched squeal ignited her interest, and her eyes shot up and darted around to try and find who said that. It didn’t take long for her gaze to rest upon her captain, dressed more lightly than he was before, with a woman under his arm, feeling her way up and down his chest. She felt nauseated, his half-lidded eyes seeming to lighten up with lust. His shirt was opened enough to show off his tanned, tattooed chest. And his smile while nuzzling up to the woman made her clench her jaw nervously. She didn’t want to be present when those two started to act indecent. That was her cue to get the hell out of there.

She left two coins for the barmaid, unneeded but there, and made her way out of the tavern. She hadn’t realized her cheeks was flushed, only when the cold breeze began to cool them down. She didn’t want to reimagine Edward with a woman on his arm. However, it kept popping up in her mind. It was irritating, and it was weird. Who was she to act like this, when all she was to the man was a friend? Disheartening, yes, (Y/N) knew that well, but she had no right to feel indignant when Edward was nothing of hers. She shuddered, wiping her mouth in thought. 

Her legs had begun moving before her brain did. She was out, making her way to the plaza before she had even fully realized what occurred. If (Y/N) stayed in that moment, watching as Edward would whisper sweet nothings into that girl’s ear, only for her to make more of those abominable noises -- she would lose it. 

Everything that she was feeling in that moment was incredibly wrong, and her mind was jumping to conclusions, like it always did. She never had a man treat her like Edward did. Was it wrong to feel a bit upset to see him treat others passionately then? She was scratching at the side of her head in thought. If there was a way to truly figure out how Edward thought about her, (Y/N) would pay top price for the information. For now, she was utterly confused and worried about what she was feeling. It was odd to see a friend act so intimate with somebody else. Maybe, if she could just get used to it, she would be able to surpass the feeling. 

Her mother had a word for men like that. She would say ‘Don Juan’, to describe a man who would treat all women the same, with the same intimacy and fervor as he would for just one. It was quite possible that Edward was one, and if he was, it would be best to leave him alone to those needs of his. She’s seen what happens to a man when he wants a woman. She would rather not have that happen to her with anyone. 

_I’m better off being alone_ , she shrugged off simply.

As she got closer to the plaza, the lights got brighter. The noises of singing and laughing got louder. And her overall excitement increased tenfold. She made it to the top of the path with a clear view of some sort of celebration going on. Only these people celebrated happiness and the miracle that was life, and they did this every night. Just getting a glance at the people lifted her spirits. Women with long, intricate dresses moved across the ground like spinning tops, and the men sang their rancheras, or they danced with them. 

Her eyes never left the dancers, as she moved around them to try and find a place to sit. They were graceful and nimble, (Y/N) wished she could perform like that again. When she was younger, she may have been able to. But 5 years without doing so left a hole in her memory. If she was given the chance to do so again, she wouldn’t be able to amount to how she was when was at her highest point. How cruel life decided to be with her. She gave up her dreams to chase another, another she was content with. What would she have done if she was given another chance?

Make the same mistake over and over again.

Because, God damn it, she loved her freedom. No matter what occupation or fortune she was leaving behind. She was simply living her life. 

She hoped her brothers could forgive her.

“ _Voy a reir! Voy a gozar! Vivir mi vida, a la la la la_!”

She turned to the sound of a thunderous applause and an even louder voice. Spanish songs always contained more life than any other music to her. If you asked her to explain, she wouldn’t know how to put it in words. It was just how it was. You don’t question why the sun shines everyday, no? 

“ _A veces llega la lluvia para limpiar las heridas. A veces solo una gota puede vencer la sequía_.” Every fourth beat there was a rhythm of 3 claps. Listening with the people, she began clapping as well. “ _Y para qué llorar, pa qué, si duele una pena! Se olvida! Y para qué sufrir, pa qué, si así es la vida, hay que vivirla lalale!_ ” 

The man’s voice was impassioned. Even more so when you understood the meaning of his words. For the truth is always the one that hits the hardest.

“ _Eeeeso!_ ” He chanted, revving up the crowd even more so than before. Pairs danced to the beat, and the singular ones, like herself, clapped to it. A harmonious balance of togetherness. She was in love. It smelled like liquor, too. “ _Voy a vivir el momento para entender el destino. Voy a escuchar en silencio para encontrar el camino! Y para qué llorar, pa qué, si duele una pena! Se olvida! Y para qué sufrir, pa qué, si asi es la vida, hay que vivirla lalale!_ ” 

The people sang the chorus, swaying side to side, smiling amongst one another. (Y/N) couldn’t help but join in, feeding off of the energy and excitement this was giving her. It rejuvenated her, made her forget. It’s what she longed. “ _Voy a reir, voy a bailar, vivir mi vida lalalalala! Voy a reir, voy a gozar, vivir mi vida, lalalalala!_ ”

“ _Mi gente!_ ” The man was motioning to the crowd to produce more noise, and they obeyed immediately. The instruments in the back were lively, trumpets and drums, clamoring together to producing a sweet melody that complimented the adrenalized lyrics. With music like this, your body had to move. It was like an instinct you couldn’t control. (Y/N) couldn’t control it. “ _Wooopa_!”

“ _Voy a reir, voy a bailar! Pa qué llorar, pa que sufrir, empieza a soñar, a reír!_ ” 

Why cry. Why suffer. Begin to laugh and dream. 

“ _Voy a reir, voy a bailar! Siente, y baila y goza, que la vida es una sola!_ ” 

Feel, and dance, and enjoy. There’s only one life, after all.

“ _Voy a reir, voy a bailar! Vive, sigue, siempre pa’lante, no mires pa’tras! Eeeeeso!_ ”

Live, move on. Always move forward, don’t ever look back.

(Y/N) sat there, with her mouth slightly parted, her hat lopsided, and her eyes wide, watching the people around her. She needed a revelation, a fine slap in the face to straighten out her senses. All this time, she had been searching for a way to forget, a way to move on. How could she move on when she was latched on firmly on the past? She was stuck on sadness, on old memories, on losses and grief. She was never living her life to the fullest by remembering the past.

The rest of the song continued, and she sat there. Silently. Motionlessly. Her mind told her to remember, but her heart is urging her to forget. Like the song said, she needed to live. She needed to laugh. She needed to dance. Take charge again, leaving behind the ghosts of former memories. 

Trust in Edward, and become a true member of the Jackdaw. Remember in Vayne, and stay loyal to the specters of the Sea Princess. It was a fork, but one side tugged her deeper in than the other. She was too young to be suffering from the heart this badly.

_My brothers, I’m so sorry_. She thought, hoping that they could hear her, somehow. _But when the Spanish drove their blades in you and you died that dreadful night, I didn’t die with you. So I must stop acting like it._

She closed her eyes slowly, letting out a soft sigh. All while the people around her were too busy getting drunk off of life itself. She had drowned out the noises, but they were coming back, louder than ever. Opening her eyes, she felt a new essense around her. One that carried hope, a new start. Rebirth. 

She raised her gaze to skies and watched the moon gleam over her, brighter than ever before. They heard and they forgave, at least in her mind. Vayne is still on their ship, somewhere, singing shanties with the rest of the crew as they sailed the Earth numerous times around. They would visit every crevice and collect every bit of gold they could find. Just, not with her.

She thanked the woman who handed her a small glass of liquor. Cross-legged, she watched the rest of the people spin and dance, sing and laugh, them against the world. Ready to overcome all the shit life may hurl their way, with a toothy smile.

They could add one more member to that team, because (Y/N) (L/N) was not budging out of that seat for the rest of the night.


	6. El Mar Profundo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> our reader is finally coming to terms with the deaths of her crew mates. and yet, problems still have a way of manifesting around her like an inescapable plague.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *evanston is the reader's british surname. it was easier to give an indefinite one, since i believe it would have gotten too confusing later on in the story (when we delve deeper into the reader's past <3).*
> 
> *the last name you chose to input will be considered your mother's maiden name for the story. I don't know if i've said it before, but your story-mother is of spanish descent, and your story-father is of british descent.*
> 
> *m/n means middle name.*

#  El Mar Profundo 

It wouldn’t be long until the Jackdaw set sail for Nassau. The island they were resting on was small and a long means away from their destination. They would spend weeks at sea, at the most, probably developing scurvy or other sea diseases. Man wasn’t built for sea, but the lot of them still decided to make lives out of it. Who the hell was she to judge? She was one of them.

There were the little things people could do to make the experiences on maritime voyages more bearable. For instance, gathering up much-needed medicine, herbs, and food. With a fresh set of clothes, a new hold, her swords, and her hat, (Y/N) set off into town alone. The Jackdaw was to set off tonight, and she wanted the ship to be well-supplied in case of anything. 

Few nights ago, (Y/N) had witnessed a joyous sight and realized something about herself. Ever since then, it was as if a cloud of rain began pouring on an arid desert. She felt _happier_. No more did she think about what she couldn’t do, but rather what she could do. Of course, she wasn’t going to forget her lost brothers, but she wouldn’t let them rule over her mind for the rest of her life. If God wanted that for her, then she should have just died in that tavern with them all. 

The town felt more quiet, particularly in the morning. Every night, these people would celebrate. And every night, (Y/N) would be out here with them. She befriended a few of the townsfolk, making herself known to them by singing old shanties she would loosely remember. It wasn’t as spirited compared to the rest of the songs they are accustomed to, but the passion was there. The people loved it, and she was welcomed into their community with open arms.

She had begun getting more acquainted with her crewmates. It was an honor to teach them tricks of hers, and they would reciprocate the gesture. Adéwalé was her favorite to spend time with. The man was wise, brilliant even. The finest Quartermaster the seven seas had ever seen. The things he would show her were bound to stay etched in her mind. Wielding swords in ways she had never imagined, Adé taught her how to mimic his stance. And like a bug up a tree, he demonstrated how to scale buildings more effectively. She would always be kept wondering how he acquired such skill, but (Y/N) never opened her mouth to ask. Never to bite the hand that fed her, she knew that saying well.

Edward Kenway was still a tall, alluring, devilishly-attractive pirate captain that managed to playfully irritate the wits out of (Y/N). He would watch her at times, feeling his eyes on her back whenever she was on ship. When she was alone, sitting on the masts of the ship or the bowsprit, Edward would find a way to squeeze in and sit next to her. The man was getting bolder, and the feathery touches up her elbow caused her to squirm under his grasp. It was getting too much when she was feeling herself blush madly with his flattering remarks. At no time in her young life has a man pestered her as much as he has. But (Y/N) knew better than to let his comments get to her head, for each night he had a new wench on his arm to return such erotic statements.

The Jackdaw was becoming her new home, and she was willing to solidify that pact by showing her loyalty to them. Spending her own coin for the wellbeing of all. Wasn’t she a _true_ samaritan?

Arriving at the plaza was different depending on the time of day. At that moment, only a few people strided to and fro, observing and buying whatever they wished. (Y/N) nodded respectfully to those she knew, smiling to those she didn’t. 

Her eyes skimmed over stands, colorful canopies shielding the venders from the rays of the tropical sun. A good whiff of cinnamon was immediately taken in, not caring that the sensations tickled her nose and stimulated a sneeze. The shine of the apples was an admirable sight, even wanting to buy one for herself. Impulse was a feeling she needed to overcome, but it was hard looking at the foods being sold and not wanting a taste of what she’s missing.

_Medicine, (L/N). You need medicine._

Inner thoughts were a plague she found herself succumbing to, acknowledging that she did need to find the necessities before anything else. It didn’t take long at all to find the spices and herbs, and gorgeous arrays of food were present wherever she turned her head. She packed enough meat to serve a castle, and powerful spices that shook the soul. At least, that was what the vendor said. In which, (Y/N) nodded eagerly and took fistfuls of it, dumping her coins onto the fabric counter, and placing her bought items in the basket that was her upside-down hat. The last thing she needed was the medicine, and that was hard enough to find when a bulk of it is known to go bad before use. 

Small chattering amongst the vendors and other townsfolk led her to the house of an elderly man dubbed Sanchez. He was hunched, wearing simple clothes, and a face that sagged more than a poor man’s pouch. Nevertheless, (Y/N) was smitten. It was rather appalling to see the elderly man, as she didn’t expect him to be carrying a fishing rod and bucket of bait when he exited his home. With her hat-basket in one hand, she sped after him, careful not to drop any of the contents of her makeshift bag. 

She called out to him once she drew close, and when he didn’t turn, she did so again. The man ignored her until they had reached the small beach right next to his home which held a dock. It looked like a harbor for dinghies. Once again, (Y/N)’s heart soared. 

“What do you want, girl?” He spoke slowly, with a voice that sounded painfully gravelly. In addition, his words carried an accented tone. Almost immediately was she taken aback, not expecting one of the townspeople to speak English; hell, not even a few sentences at least. Most of the islands in the West Indies were owned by the Spanish. To find an English-speaking native was a rarity on its own... With that knowledge in mind, (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Is… your name Sanchez?” Her question was let out slowly, with a dubious look and her posture slightly hunched. Edging closer to him brought uncertainty within her, unsure whether to sit down or simply stand close to him. The man barely turned his head, giving her a glance over his shoulder. She heard him let out a soft sigh, turning back to focus on his fishing instead. A dry swallow came from her part, allowing an awkward silence to take them over. 

“Louis. Louis Sanchez.” He eventually murmured out, flinging his rod’s line out into the sea. The gentle lapping of water was lulling, mesmerizing to watch. Even more so when the chill winds of the oceans hit their skin lightly. Small wisps of her loose hair flowed with the direction of the breeze. A small smile formed, as she looked out to the distant horizon. “You didn’t answer me, miss.”

Snapping out of her haze, she looked back down at the man. (Y/N) spent the next moments setting her hat aside before she took a seat near him. Not shoulder-to-shoulder close, leaving around half a foot worth of space in between them. She cast him a nervous glance, before focusing back towards the ocean. “I was told by locals that you would have some medicine, sir.”

A droned noise from his chest, his hunched back straightening briefly before returning to its natural, arched position. The grip on his fishing rod tightened, swaying it side to side to see the bait move atop the water’s surface. (Y/N) watched him curiously, wondering whether she should continue her sentence, as the man didn’t look as if he were going to speak anytime soon. All she could really do was sit there, picking at her nails, occasionally looking over to the man to see if he made any new movements. When he hadn’t, she continued to sit there. “Why did they say I had medicine? Do it look like to you… that I have such?” 

Taking a look back at his fishing equipment, she ran her tongue over her front teeth in thought. “I came to trust the people of this island, sir. If they can give me the word that you have such, I will believe them wholeheartedly. Besides, people can do numerous things at a time, yeah?”

“Just as you are a pirate, you can do many thing.” A rasped response, with a head that took its time in nodding slowly. His joints did not seem to work as fluidly as they used to. It was quite possible that this man used to be as graceful as the rest of island. “You pirate, what else do you do?”

“How do you know I’m a pirate, sir?”

“Who else carry that hat?”

“...How do you recognize this hat?”

“You think you the only pirates to land on this island?”

She clicked her tongue, laughing humorlessly. The old man was witty. A helpless bow of the head came from her part. “Okay, Louis. I am a pirate, and I used to be a…” This was a man she was never going to see again. Why should she worry about his judgements against her? “A singer.”

His approving grunt relaxed her, and she was able to sit tense-free again. Exasperation compelled her to rub her eyes, hoping this man had the medicine. “You sang?”

“All the time until I became a pirate, sir.”

He paused. “And why did you stop?”

“I never truly stopped sir,” It felt odd to admit such a thing. A folding of her hands together on her lap soon followed. “I still sing, and I love to do it, just that.. After I became a pirate, I had to give up a lot of the dreams I had when I was younger.”

“So why did you become pirate?”

“...I was going to be married off to a man I didn’t love, sir. If I didn’t run off, I’d..” The sentence was left without an end. Frankly, she didn’t know what would have become of her if she had stayed and married the guy. Probably with a gun in her right hand, and its bullet through her skull. Her lip quivered at the such a thought. “I gave my dreams to pursue my freedom, sir. And although I’ll miss them all, I don’t regret doing so.”

The man’s bait sunk, and he was quick to pull on the fishing rod, trying to tug his fish in. Seeing him struggle, (Y/N) leaned over and helped him heave the catch. Gritting her teeth, she used all her might to help the man pull. The catch was horribly large, feeling the creature tug against their might with every jerk the rod emitted. Louis was frail, so he was relying on her to bring in the fish. (Y/N) had been brought onto her feet, which allowed her to exert a much greater force into the pull.

The two worked in unison, grunting and gripping the rod until their knuckles went white. Their efforts were soon rewarded, seeing the massive beast appear in the shallow waters, flopping about. One last heave from (Y/N) brought it straight out onto the sand, where it flailed hopelessly. One look at the beast and she gasped, gawking at the mere size of the thing. It looked to be about half her height, and she didn’t even want to know how much it weighed. Unbelievable.

She placed her hands on her hips, panting in exhaustion. That fish almost drained all of her energy, but it was quite exciting to see what she helped bring in. Louis was still seated on the beach, two hands on his fishing rod, watching the fish. A few seconds later, he turned to look at her. And he smiled tenderly, as much as his wrinkled face resisted against it. “What medicine do you need?”

A grateful sigh fell from her lips, clapping her hands together. “Thank you, sir. There’s no other place around who sells medicine. Here-” She rushed to his side, taking his hand and arm in order to help him stand. Taking her time, she led him up until he was stable on his two feet. She went on to take the fish and his equipment in one hand, and her hat full of supplies in the other. Louis was making his trek back to his home, and it didn’t take long for (Y/N) to catch up to him, even with her hands full.

“What is your name?” He croaked, when she began walking to his pace beside him.

“(Y/N) (L/N), sir.”

“Full name.”

She crinkled her forehead, looking at the man with an odd expression. However, she didn’t question why. Her gut told her to trust the man, and that was a bizarre occurrence anyways. It took a lot for (Y/N) to trust someone. There was still a bit of skepticism underlied within her movements even with her new crewmates, and it would continue to be as such for a long time. Hell, she even gave Edward accusatory looks still. “My name is… (Y/N) (M/N) Evanston-(L/N)… You can see why I shorten my name.”

The man snorted. “Why one name?”

“One… name?”

“(L/N)…” Her mother’s maiden name. “Why that?”

She chewed on her inner cheek. Her mother’s maiden name was the epitome of the Spanish culture (Y/N) desperately wanted to assimilate in. Her true name was Evanston. Of the Evanston family blood. Her siblings bear the name just as she did, with her mother’s supposedly-forgotten name after it. Evanston represented the wealth of England where she originated from. But (L/N) represented the homely sense she always felt when travelling to Spain during her vacations. When she left Bristol with Vayne while only being the mere age of 15, she had the choice of being known as (Y/N) Evanston. Why would she choose a Spanish maiden name over a noble, English one? Choose an ordinary name over a pretentious one? Modesty and humbleness over elegance and poise?

“It… sounds better with my name.” She replied, horribly ashamed of her answer. There was so much to it, but those damn trust issues of hers always, _always_ got in the way of forming relationships with others. Louis didn’t seem to mind, rather he focused on opening his door without groaning aloud. Once he was able to click the lock open, he used his left hand to push the door. With one step into the home, the floorboards creaked.

In all honesty, (Y/N) expected his home to be utter squalor. A man like him didn’t look to be the one to be constantly cleaning his home, when he had other occupations to upkeep. The door he opened led straight into his dining room, where a small table for four sat square in the middle. Cupboards and shelves adorned the walls, decorated with fine plates and potted plants. (Y/N) gazed on, like a child.

“You can help with putting fish in kitchen?”

And so (Y/N) did. She set her hat, the fishing rod, and his other things on the dining table, and carried the heavy catch with two hands, which was a fine relief after carrying it with only her right hand. It felt as if the fish were sliding from her grasp, constantly readjusting her grip on it to make sure it didn’t do so. Louis set up his area in the kitchen, where he took out his mat to place the fish on, and his knives.The various herbs he kept around his kitchen also came to her notice. They were not hard to ignore, the vivid green colors popping out against the brown of his walls. 

A deep exhale was released from her lungs, once she set the fish down on the mat, positioning it so that it lay straight in front of Louis.

“Anything else, sir?” She breathed out, looking down to her glossy arms, tinted with the smell of fresh fish. Although she loved the smell, her preference was when the fish was fried. Her mouth watered with just imagining such a meal.

“No, no… You stay. I need to give you the medicine,” He used the knife to point to a seat, near the entrance of the kitchen. (Y/N) gave a small smile, taking the chair by its back, and scooting it so that she was directly facing Louis as he worked. Her head leaned against the counter of his kitchen. 

“You lived here long, Louis?”

He was crooning softly to himself as he gut the catch. “Yes. I made voyages, when I was young. I used to make good map of area.” (Y/N) nodded, urging him to continue. “People would teach me thing, and I would learn. I learn of medicine and fishing, and many other thing.” Her eyes went wide with curiosity.

“You made maps, Louis? Of the West Indies?” 

“Yes. I only have one. I like it very much. Very pretty.” (Y/N) couldn’t help but giggle, admiring the old man as he wiggled his finger from the skin of the fish that attached to it. “What places do you visit?”

(Y/N) let out a blow of air through her puffed cheeks. “Well, I’ve been to a lot of places. I’ve been to many islands and many territories. I’ve met so many people, and I’m sad to say I can’t recall most of their names. My crew and I are heading to Nassau next,”

Louis whistled, chopping as he talked. “Nassau is beautiful. I went there when I was younger. Stars beautiful at night.”

“Are they?” (Y/N) mused, tilting her head slightly. Her bottom lip jutted out in thought. “I can’t wait to visit then. Louis…” His herbs looked intriguing, hoping to identify at least one of them. “Do you have herbs for sea sickness and all that?”

“I have medicine for everything, child. I give you it.” Nipping at his thumb, he lapped at the blood when it began oozing out of his wound. No grimaces, no whines. The man was hardened, just like her. “You very nice pirate. I never met nice pirate before you.” The knife was set down with care, reaching for a hand cloth to wash his hands with. He began rummaging through his cupboards, taking out bowls of substances, one by one, planting them on the counter with loud clinks. A mix of smells soon hit her all at once, and she didn’t know whether to take it in, or cover her nose from the intensity.

“Christ, Louis. You weren’t kidding,” She coughed, her eyes watering. Dozens of herbs had been laid out on the counter, and he was carefully picking them with his index and thumb. A small wooden container was taken out while he was at it, and he began placing the mix of herbs in the bowl. Oddly enough, (Y/N) wondered just how strong the smell truly was; if she would take a whiff of that bowl, would she pass out immediately? The concoction was soon lidded once Louis saw that he had given her all that she needed. 

“I gave you the medicine fit for a trip to Nassau.” He handed her the bowl and (Y/N) took it with reluctance. “I like you, child. I gave you a bit extra.”

“T-Thank you, Louis.” The stammer to her words was unintentional, as she searched for the right words to respond with. “I really don’t know what to say. I’m entirely grateful.”

He swatted her comments away with an arthritic wrist, waddling back over to his half-prepared fish. “You help me when you did not need to. I like that. So I help more.”

(Y/N) looked down at the bowl, her fingers tracing the rim of the lid. Edward and Adéwalé will be so fond of what she has gotten for the crew, she knew it. It made her joyous inside, knowing she was doing something productive. She wondered if she should say anything more. The man looked occupied with his fish, and she really had nothing else to do in his house. However, something urged her to stay. As if her senses were telling her that she needed to linger a while more. 

“You stay, child?”

His comment startled her, and she quietly sat back down in the seat, wobbly as it was. “I… I just had a question, Louis. One that’s been on my mind since I arrived on this island.”

“Ask, child.”

She downed her doubts and straightened her back, holding the bowl carefully between her fingers. “W-Well, Louis… I… Is there a woman around here who can sing beautifully? Especially during the night?”

He didn’t answer her for a moment, even halting in his motions. His head turned ever-so slightly towards her, with eyes squinted into a slit. “Many woman sing during night. Island is known for that, child.”

“Yes, I know!” She replied quickly, trying to think of a good way to elaborate. “I-I mean… the woman had dark hair… a white flowy dress… She was very pretty. She sang a song that went.. ‘ _Se fue, se fue, y mi amor se coviero de hielo_ ’.. Something like that!” (Y/N) was desperate, spilling out any detail she could remember. “Do you recall… seeing someone like that? Ever?”

Louis set down his knife, and looked to her with the most confused expression she had ever seen convey. “Child, I have never heard such lyrics. They are sad, and this island sings about joy. You sure you heard such language?”

“I-I’m positive, Louis! She… She danced like all the women here, and she sang, and… she was beautiful! I would have tried to ask her for her name, but she ran off before I got the chance…” she looked up to him again. “You have never seen, or heard, anyone like that before?”

He shook his head, much to her disappointment. “Woman here sing a happy way, and that lyrics are too… sad, for a woman for this island. That is odd, child. Very..” Trailing off pensively, he looked away from her. “..very odd. That song.. Sing more of it.”

“‘ _Se fue, se fue, y la vida con él se me fue, se fue, y la razón no la se… Se existe dios debe acordarse de mí, aunque se_ -’”

“Very strange,” He interjected, a hand scratching his chin. “Never have I heard such words of heartbreak. I am sorry, child, but no woman on this island sings like that.”

Her heart sunk, and she scratched at her head in utter bewilderment. “I… The song… It sounded familiar to me, too. That’s why I was very worried when I first heard it. A bit mystified, sure, but more… shocked. And amazed. I don’t know what I was feeling, but it was one of those.”

Unbeknownst to her, Louis seemed to have found an answer to her problems. Yet, he kept to himself, only raising his knife to resume his work. “You should not worry, child. You find many woman like that in Nassau. They sing and dance with they heart. You will forget about that woman there,” 

(Y/N) wished, but she doubted that it would be the case. “Well, thank you for trying to help me, Louis.” She ran a hand through her tangled locks, strands that smelled of seawater, moving slightly with her head movement. “Do you have an idea of what time it is, by chance?”

Louis shrugged indifferently. “Sun is still high in sky. You leave soon, child?”

“We leave at nightfall.” (Y/N) responded, a bit of disappointment edging her words. It would be difficult to leave so soon, since she had made so many good memories on this island alone. The experience with the townsfolk was able to brighten her mood in times where she desperately needed it. They guided her back into the right direction, inspiring her to become more optimistic about her life. Such kindness reminded her to truly become herself again… how she used to be.

Louis had eventually set his fish aside, washing off his knife slowly, running the cloth over the metal. Diligently, he set it down. “Well, child, you should get ready.”

No matter how much she didn’t want to, she knew she had to. “You’re right. Thanks for everything, Louis. I’ll never forget everything you’ve done for me.” She stood up, her bowl in her hands. With a respectful bow of the head, she sent him a soft smile before she returned to the dining room to grab all of her things.

With everything cradled in her arms, she carefully placed the small bowl on top of the rest of the things. It was positioned oddly, leaning on the curved surface of an apple. She adjusted it slightly, making sure it didn’t tip over to spill out all of the herbs. Not only was her hat incredibly heavy, even by carrying it with two arms, but some things were on the verge of falling out. And if they fell out, she knew she was over. Because that was her damn money going down the drain. 

She hauled the thing up, using every piece of energy in her not to topple over. Her trudge over to the door that led back outside was going somewhat successful, but halted when Louis reappeared in the dining room, a rolled up parchment held tightly in his closed fist. Frozen in her spot, she watched him as he slowly made his way to her. The parchment looked incredibly lengthy, the paper sticking out significantly from either side of his fist. 

Without a word, Louis stuck one end of the parchment into the produce, making it stick upright; the produce beneath the rolled up paper being its support to make sure it didn’t fall over. Louis gave her a firm pat on the shoulder, rough and harsh, almost tugging down her left shoulder with his hand. She sent him a disquieted look, her eyebrows knitting together as she looked down at him. “What is that, Louis?”

Smiling, she could see that a few of his teeth aren’t where they used to be. A bit stained and chipped, imperfect as can be. Yet, his smile still brought a tenderness that melted the ice in her heart. Her features softened, watching him turn away from her. “A final gift. Make sure you do not forget about us, child. It will guide you.”

(Y/N) scrunched up her face in initial confusement, leaving the home quietly. A few seconds were spent resting her back against the wood of the door, looking at the parchment with wonder. Her stomach lurched suddenly and her eyes went big with a revelation. Louis couldn’t have, could he? 

She set her hat-basket down, much to the relief of her arms, and yanked the parchment out giddily, hands slightly trembling with the thought of her initial ideas being true. It was too good to be true, wasn’t it? Louis really couldn’t have done such a thing. 

Hastily digging her nail under the tie holding the parchment together, she rolled it off as quick as she could. The tie was in her left fist as she held onto one side of the parchment and let the rest unravel by itself. Getting a good glimpse as the paper before her, she uttered a loud gasp, unable to breathe for a few seconds.

Louis truly did it. She wondered in the house while speaking with him if he would have enough good in his heart to give her the last map he contained of the West Indies. And here it was, right before her very eyes, the most valuable thing she had ever laid eyes on. No coin could ever top the parchment in her hands. And by all the angels in the heavens, Louis was not kidding when he said it would guide the way. Hell, the map had everything.

Labelling, a legend, a compass, waterways, secret routes, and land routes, everything a pirate could ever want to know about an area was on this piece of paper. She took a few moments to admire the beauty of the map, its faint colors having an archaic look to them. Even the slight ridges of the mountains were visible, hills and rivers carved into the paper perfectly, like a divine creation. Louis was a wonderful artist. Everything was incredibly thorough and precise, every stone unturned and uncovered.

The thought that came immediately to her mind after the excitement and amazement of obtaining such a prize was one she truly didn’t mean to think. _Edward would love to see what I have right now._ She may have her thoughts about how untrustworthy Edward can be, but seeing how good of a treasure she nabbed in a day… Well, she expected him to be just as excited as she was at the moment. 

Her innocence and child-like elation prevented her from seeing the more serious things in life. Especially when it came to Edward. Her past experiences with men and her desire to keep herself pure made her push all of her admirers away. She justified it with the internal encouragement that, ‘ _I’m better off being on my own,_ ’ Everybody in the damn crew could have seen the way their captain stares at the wide-eyed star-gazer, and she still wouldn’t have a clue.

She carefully rolled up the parchment and reapplied its tie. Holding it firmly in one hand, she bent over and picked up her hat again, hurrying off to the direction of the harbor. In her joy, she forgot to thank Louis. God knows well she’ll be doing that later, even if he wasn’t there to physically see it. The winds will bring her voice back to this island.

She walked uncomfortably, with the bulk of weight resting on both of her arms, and her right hand still grasping on the parchment as tight as she could, as there was a slight breeze on the island. If she were to lose Louis’ gift, she would surely launch herself into the ocean afterwards, for personal reasons and business reasons. 

She greeted the townsfolk as she went, with a strained smile and squinty eyes to conceal her pains. They would give her odd looks, commenting on what she was doing. A short reply along with a small groan and a ‘Nothing!’ would be all she could say, before scurrying off quickly. By then, they had gotten glances of what the disorganized, charming mess that she was. She always gave out the biggest smiles to the citizens, waving to them and serenading the children whenever they asked. However, she was also the same woman who could easily topple over her own feet, stammer her words, and lose her train of thought. And, to top it all off, she was a cold-blooded pirate who showed no mercy to her enemies.

The harbor was in sight for her, the flag of the Jackdaw perched on top of the highest mast. She couldn’t do much else but try to run with the loaded hat and map, trying to make sure her arms didn’t break off from exhaustion. The crooks of her elbows were sore, and her back hurt with the way she walking with the cargo. She hoped Edward would be grateful enough from that. If he wasn’t, she would probably break one of his ribs in retaliation.

As she neared, her crewmates looked to her just like the townsfolk did; furrowed brows and wide-eyed stares. She was huffing, begging for someone to take the hat off of her arms. “Please lads, the weight is crushin’ me!” It didn’t take long for a few of them to step in and try to take it. The weight lifted from her arms was a relief. Although, she did feel pity watching them stumble a few steps backwards once she gave them the hat. A wince in agony in response to the soreness in her arms was the only thing she could muster. She took the smallest of weight off the cargo when she meticulously picked out the rolled up parchment from the load.

“You brought all this for the crew?” Adéwalé questioned gruffly, skimming over the items she brought, before darting back at her. She nodded, massaging the crooks of her arms and forearms. 

“Oh come on, Adé! Don’t start doubting me now, I did all of this for the good of the crew.” (Y/N) pouted, her hand going to the back of her neck to feel the knots of tension. She groaned, tilting her head to the side until she heard a loud, satisfactory crack. “I need to talk to Edward. I’ve got to show him something.”

Adé’s usually stoic face turned to one of concern in the flash of the moment. His jaw clenched, watching (Y/N) hurrying up to Edward’s quarters. “(Y/N), wait!” She stopped midway up the stairs, turning to look at him with raised brows. “What… what is it do you need to show Edward? You can show me first.” 

Adéwalé was doing his best to stall, knowing that Edward asked him specifically to not let anyone into his chambers at this time. _Especially_ not (Y/N). 

He prayed that (Y/N) would just give him her famous smile and walk back down the stairs over to him. That the stubborn girl would just laugh and agree and show him whatever the hell she was holding in her hand. Alas, (Y/N) (L/N) was not a woman to chain back. Who was he to step in?

“Oh please, Adéwalé! I’ve got to show the Captain this first!” She called out, before turning back around and trudging up the last few steps. She adjusted her hat, smiling down at the parchment in her hand. Adéwalé could only shield his eyes and expect the worst from what was about to come. The courage within him vanished, not able to watch (Y/N) begin to knock on Edward’s door. He felt as if he were bound to dive into the seas to avoid the secondhand embarrassment. 

She knocked three times on the door, feeling the excitement bubbling up in her chest. The thoughts within pestered her, knowing that she would have to go back and thank Louis with a full-sized meal. Or she would at least try to catch a large fish for the man. The gift he gave her was priceless. 

“Adé-” Edward’s grumbles could be heard clearly, his voice getting closer to the door. She was about to reveal her identity, but the door opened faster than her mouth could. “I thought I told you to-”

Almost immediately, (Y/N)’s eyes went wide as she gasped loudly and spun around to look away. She clenched her eyes shut, and covered her mouth with a trembling hand. “E-Edward, I’m sorry! I… I didn’t know you-” Spluttering in shame, she felt her face beginning to redden considerably. Edward shuffled back into his room, looking for clothes to wear. Whilst in her rampant, jumbled-up thoughts, she began walking towards the railing that enclosed the second floor of the ship. In her peripheral, and later normal, field of sight, she watched as a dark-haired woman rushed down the steps of the ship and quickly left the ship entirely. Her dress was loosely hanging about her shoulders.

“(Y/N)-” Edward said, once he was more appropriately clothed. He closed the door of his quarters and began making his way towards her. With her lips pressed into a thin line, she refused to look him in the eyes. Instead, she twirled the parchment in her hands limply. “(Y/N), I’m sorry… sorry you had to see-”

“Edward.” It was an eventual response, one she wasn’t proud of. She swallowed thickly before she uttered another word. “It’s fine. I… I just needed to show you something.” Shameful. It was the only word she could use to describe how she was acting. In all honesty, (Y/N) had never seen that much of a man before. It scared her, seeing who she considered a friend so scantily dressed when she least expected it. In those few seconds, the part of her that she believed to have died when she joined the life of piracy sprung up from the dead to surprise her. She looked up to the cloudless skies, knowing that the redness on her cheeks had not disappeared yet. 

“I… Did Adé not tell you…?” A remorseful whisper from his part, leaning forward against the railing to try and look at (Y/N) clearly. It would be difficult to avoid, but she knew that to act like this would only ruin her name. Every day for the last five years, she had done her best to forget and to dispose of the young girl who was afraid of attraction and to replace her with the changed woman who she was today; a matured, hardened and battle-ready warrior who scoffed at the idea of closeness and love. She was becoming too fond of Edward and this was bound to be known to him soon, especially with the way she was behaving. As if she were a smitten teenager again. 

Embarrassment wasn’t the award for which she had trekked about a mile to receive. It was for the prospect of wanting to officiate her position on the crew did she almost tear her arms off to complete. Repressing the side of her that was dying to be set free, she turned back to face Edward directly and held up the parchment in her right hand. “This. This is what I needed to show you, _Captain_.”

Her eyes narrowed as she hissed out the final word of her sentence. The boots on her feet roughly connected with the planks of the ship below her as she stormed into Edward’s room. She kicked away the stray bed sheets that were in her path and sat in the seat in front of Edward’s desk. The parchment was released from its confines and rolled it out in a swift motion. She used small objects that were lying near her to pin down the parchment, which was threatening to roll back up without added resistance. 

Edward quietly shut the door, a gesture she was able to catch. Side-glancing the messy bed, she observed how most of the pillows weren’t even on the bed anymore. The room had a fresh, repugnant stench that reeked of desperation and lust. She silenced the urge to scowl. 

“What’s that, lass?”

Using her index finger as a pointer, she cleared her throat before speaking. “This is a map of Nassau. It was given to me by a friendly villager I had the pleasure of speaking to.”

Edward’s mouth almost went agape, as his eyes began scanning the parchment. His hand gingerly ran over its creases and edges, taking it all in once. And he smiled. “It… It has everything, lass!”

“I knew that you’d like it.” She remarked, a courteous nod of the head. “It wasn’t hard to get.”

He turned towards her, a look of skepticism hinting his structured features. (Y/N) raised a brow as he crossed his arms over his chest. “What do I owe you?”

“Owe me?” Her head tilted to the left, staring at Edward from under her brows. “I’m only doing my job here, Captain.” The urbane manner in which she spoke appeared unforced, resting her arm on the back of the chair. Her sudden change of tone seemed to catch him off guard, watching him step back with his right foot with his mouth slightly ajar. His eyes followed as she pulled herself up off the chair and somewhat matched him in height. Feigning a wrinkled-eyed grin, she nodded again before excusing herself from his presence. Once the fresh air hit her skin at last, she cracked her thumb and began digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands until she was about to draw blood. She rolled back her shoulders, keeping her head leveled and composure indifferent. 

It was only until she was far away from the Jackdaw where she felt her teeth about to crack under the amount of pressure they were in. She pressed the heels of her hand deep under the cheekbones, squeezing her eyes shut until she was seeing colors. If she screamed, it was likely to be heard by the crewmembers on the ship. Destroying parts of the island was out of question, too. The people liked to keep their home in order.

Resorting to her most tame option, she kicked off her boots and began loosening the articles of clothing that hugged her body until she was left in only her trousers and the white billowy shirt that was threatening to fall off her upper body completely. Without the underbust corset, it would have. She was reaching for the hat on her head, but feeling around, she realized it was gone. Still on the boat. 

Instead of fretting, she reached into one of her back pockets, pulling out a red bandana. A hand raised to smooth out the hair atop her head before she fastened the fabric around her skull. Her hair fell messily over her shoulders, down past her shoulders. The rest of her weapons straps were roughly jerked from her body, yet she carefully placed Jupiter and Celestial on top of the small pile of clothing she created.

With a running start, she sprinted towards the raging waves that crashed on the shores before her. Head first, she dove into a wave that was taller than her own height. It was an ethereal feeling, to let herself become engulfed by the water, kicking at her ankles until she was breathing air again. Taking large breaths, she ducked underneath the waves as another monstrous one was heading her way. 

She couldn’t wait to reach Nassau. The waves around her were tempestuous, with the feel of the water around her alleviating the feelings she was sensing deep inside of her soul. Anger, frustration, and the angst reminiscent to how she once felt long ago, as a teenager. It was bubbling up over the white heat of her soul, threatening to burst with the right conditions. With the waves rising and falling, and the cold water encompassing her body, she felt numb. 

It was a feeling she adored. It was an emotion she was striving to reach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any comments/constructive criticism is deeply appreciated! hope you all enjoy. <3


	7. Sting of Sea Salt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> now, the story begins to intermix with the canon plotline in ac4. of course, there will still be divergences from the original...

#  Sting of Sea Salt 

The sudden jolting of the ship almost lurched her off the barrels she was sleeping on. Her quick reflexes managed to tightly grip the edge of the circular top before the ship’s movement sent her to the ground. She stared up at the huge mast above her, its sails rustling gently with the wind that the West Indies occasionally provided. Beyond that, she caught small glimpses of the vast, star-filled sky. Typically, being awoken amidst her sleep would provoke a violent type of annoyance in the woman, but she wasn’t complaining with the sight she was seeing.

She sat up, cracking a few of her joints as she went. The hat that was given back to her once she returned to the Jackdaw was secured firmly on her scalp, even if the skin underneath was beginning to sweat. She made her way to the railing of the ship, two hands clutching the wooden banister. Her head inclined to take in a full view of the sky. By the looks of the coloring on the horizon, it was before dawn. The beginnings of the strong rays were peeking above the skyline, creating an enigmatic mix of orange and blue in the still-night sky. 

Her eyes were threatening to shut once more, with the lulling of the ship beckoning her to succumb to the fixed clutches of sleep. The twinkling sparks in the skies above were looking heavenly, with their dull shines travelling thus far to reach her field of view. The stench of heavily salted ocean air encapsulated her, being able to taste its tangy flavor if she stuck out her tongue for too long. She could hear the gentle creaks the Jackdaw would make as she sailed against the waves below. A few sailors were up at this time, with most of them just quietly chatting to the man next to him. 

Her mind was still restless, as it always was. It drifted off to recall how she would stay up throughout the nights, speaking with Scotty about their pasts and what they would have wanted to accomplish in the future. Scotty wanted to have a restaurant of his own, once he gathered the sufficient money. He would want it to be somewhere in England, close to the oceans. (Y/N) had playfully joked about being willing to perform at the restaurant whenever she landed in England. She hoped that Scotty had taken it as a joke. She didn’t mean it seriously.

(Y/N) did not believe that she would live into an older age. Perhaps to her early forties, even to her fifties if she was lucky enough, but never more. The type of lifestyle she led wasn’t one to last a lifetime. She knew that she wouldn’t have the chance to see her children, or their children, grow up and make wiser decisions. Yet, a portion of her was ecstatic for that fact. She would have wanted her descendants to hear a lasting legacy about her name, instead of them meeting her in the flesh and becoming vastly disappointed. 

As she was feeling herself approaching that same euphoric state of slumber, her body sprung back into its keen state of alertness at the reminder of Scotty. Her hands fumbled to delve into her numerous pockets, searching for the small object she had placed there weeks prior. Her stomach knotted at the thought of losing it, but she could air a breath of relief feeling the object’s ragged texture within her grasp. Carefully entwining her finger around the necklace, she took a firm hold of the wet chains.

The gold locket had a charming sheen atop its exterior. It was a small gift from Scotty, given to her when it was her birthday. There were little words said in the bestowal. It was a particularly nasty day, in which (Y/N) was verbally assaulted in Antigua by a few drunken rogues. She did her best to ignore it until the men began to talk badly about Captain Vayne. Her seat flew backwards with the velocity it took for her to stand, and she laughed at how she chucked a couple of stools their way before she stormed over to take the men by the collars. 

It was an unpleasant altercation, to summarize. Scotty understood, and he did not utter a word when handing her the small gift. She palmed it emotionlessly, even though she felt immensely grateful that someone decided to give her something that wasn’t rum for a change.

Looking at the locket, she realized that it was the last thing she had of Scotty. Knowing this, she hastily brought it to her lips before placing it back into her pocket, feeling around to make sure it was really there. 

In the spur of the moment, the breath was ripped out of her lungs when the ship fell atop an intense wave. Being thrown forward into the beam she was leaning on was a dreadful thing, her stomach caving into her body. She let out a strangled gasp, wincing as she backed away from the railings and held onto her stomach. Adé, who had watched the spectacle, made his way over to her.

“You alright there, lass?” He asked, as (Y/N) flashed him a forced grin and thumbs up.

“I’ve never been better, Adé.” She groaned out, still hunched over in pain. Adé stifled his laughter, patting her shoulder as he leaned on the banister that knocked the winds out of her. Her eyes narrowed at his unusual demeanor. “Is something wrong? You never seem to walk up to someone and begin to chat as easily as this.”

“You’re right in assuming that.” He sent her a cheeky grin from over his shoulder. “You seem harmless, so it’s easier to talk to you.” (Y/N)’s face twisted up in annoyance, piercing her dirtiest look through the back of his skull. Nevertheless, she chose to remain silent. Adé gazed down at his calloused fingertips, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Am I right to assume you’re from England?”

(Y/N) straightened her posture eventually, her boots loud against the wooden planks as she stood beside Adé. She jutted out her lips in thought. “I’m going to take a shot in the dark and guess you’re not from England, Spain, or Europe in general?”

Adé turned to look at her, with squinted eyes and parted lips. His lips twitched, leaning his head to the side to crack his neck loudly. “...Did Edward save you?”

“I never asked to be saved. But in a way, he did.” (Y/N) admitted, briefly gazing over to Adé’s stoic face before looking back outwards towards the open oceans. “He told me that he could have left me for dead. He didn’t, which is where I come to wonder why.” She nudged Adé gently at the elbow, beckoning him to speak. “How did you and Edward meet? Did he save your life, too?”

“In a way.” Adé replied, running his tongue over his teeth. “We were thrown… on the same ship. Shackled up and forgotten in the bottom deck of a Spanish boat. We broke out and Edward took charge of the vessel. He made me his Quartermaster.”

“What happened to the ship?”

“Why, you’re standing on it.” Adé gave a lackluster grin, rubbing the beams he was leaning on and resting his fingers over the wooden support. “The Jackdaw, he named it. He’s doing his best to gather up a crew-” He motioned up towards the masts and rafters above their heads. “-as the meager one he got now won’t be strong enough against a tougher band of marauders.” 

“Is that why we’re heading to Nassau, then? To get more members for the Jackdaw’s exclusive crew of pirates?”

“Captain Kenway’s got business.” Adé shrugged. “People to meet. Sights to see.”

“I’d rather be swimming with the sharks.” (Y/N) blew out a current of air through her mouth in annoyance. Her cheeks puffed up, then slowly deflated while making a sound that Adé crinkled his eyebrows at. “I feel more at peace with sharks than I ever have been before, know that? After I cut out those pups, I formed a bond with ‘em in general.”

“What an odd bond. Sharks are fearsome creatures. There’s no happiness or joy that comes with them.” He aired his words with nonchalance, thinking nothing of them. When he shot a glance over at (Y/N), she was looking pensively down at the waters. Her lips were flattened against each other, with her hands loosely clamped together. Her thumbs fidgeted, while her hunched figure let out a deep sigh. 

After a brief pause, she nodded up towards the stars. Her eyes brightened as they reflected the lights of the distant beings. “Do you know that the moon controls the waves? I don’t know how… but it does.”

“I always believed it was the wind. Whenever the wind is strongest, so is the waves.” Adé turned his whole body to face (Y/N). “Speak of the devil, we should help Edward. The waves are beginning to look ready to flip us over.”

“Are you sure I should go, Adé? You’re his Quartermaster and I understand your concern. I’m a mere sailor that needs a wage.” She expressed her words with an obvious uncertainty, her foot tapping a rhythm as she spoke. Adé caught on by the sound of her tone, but she couldn’t decipher the look on his face. It would take a while, to observe the customs and habits of both Edward and Adé. She only hoped that it would be easier with them than it had been with Captain Vayne. 

To her shock, and a small bit of her embarrassment, Adé laughed. “This.. this hesitance comes from the incident from earlier, no? Edward was just as surprised as you, but quite amused with your reaction afterwards.”

“Ah? What did he say afterwards?” She prompted, bracing herself for the words he was bound to say. Her steady gaze made him feel the need to comply with her inquiry.

“He said that you were far too innocent to be a woman of 20. That, or you’ve never been with a man before.” 

(Y/N) breathed in deeply through her nose, raising her chin higher as she let it out again. She nodded briefly, squinting her eyes at Adé as he gave a half-hearted shrug. 

_How could he be so blase?_ She pondered, not realizing that her jaw went slack. _This is appalling. Not even a cringe or a wince to express his pity?_

Her eyes followed his movements, watching as he made his way up the stairs to meet with Edward at the ship’s helm. She did her best to level her breathing as she looked down at the ocean’s waves, feeling her heart’s rate begin to quicken. Why she felt so indignant or sheepish she didn’t know, but she _did_ know that she wanted those feelings to cease immediately. Edward was beginning to piece her apart faster than she could with him, and that in itself was troubling her. The least she could do was make herself seem more predictable in his eyes, so she began walking the path Adé took before her to reach Edward.

“-food and water, Edward. We won’t last long without it.” 

“Don’t help when half the crew’s vomiting what we so _desperately_ find for them.” (Y/N) interrupted their conversation effortlessly, with her hands behind her back and her feet so rhythmically gradual against the deck. Edward turned his head to face her, with his brows slightly raised and his mouth threatening to smile widely. “How much longer ‘til we dock in Nassau? The crew can’t take much longer of this… _avid_ seasickness.”

“Not to worry, lass. The map you gave me has helped me devise a route to get us there in a fraction of the time.” Edward replied, taking his hands off the ship’s wheel and beginning to edge closer to (Y/N)’s unamused stance. This was too much of a game to him, and he was at a greater advantage than what (Y/N) could expect. She tried to view him as a friend, but he was beginning to turn out to be an annoyance. Noticing her silence, and the way she tilted her head ever-so-slightly to the side, he took it as a cue to stop a mere inches away from her face, his stature towering over hers. His half-lidded eyes looked down upon her, the obviously dilated pupils evident to (Y/N). He reeked of the ocean’s saltiness, a smell (Y/N) loved, but she still feigned disgust with the wrinkling of the nose. Ever since she was small, she was terrified of the way men acted when they wanted to court a woman. Cornering them up with their suave voices and lust-filled looks, touching them gently at the elbows or shoulders and soon forcing them to a kiss. Her maternal grandmother, Valentina, had warned (Y/N) about the men who had too many on each arm. To attract one was worse. When Edward finally spoke again, his voice was raspy and deep, emitting a charming sound that evoked a shiver up (Y/N)’s spine. “I don’t believe I thanked you properly for giving me such a gift.”

“Thank me?” She repeated at a whisper, pointing at herself as her eyes widened in size. “I was only doing my part, Captain. There comes a responsibility with being on the Jackdaw and I am doing my best to fulfill it. As Captain, you should-” With two fingers, (Y/N) rested them on the side of Edward’s unshaven face, applying enough pressure to force him to focus his wanting gaze back onto the ship’s wheel. “-consider concentrating on getting us to Nassau.”

(Y/N) made her way around him, who fell silent at her actions, and stood beside Adé. Silently watching, and judging, the spectacle from where he stood. She pat at his bare shoulder. 

“And I agree with Adé, aye. When we run out of supplies, we should make a stop… and by the looks of those savage beasts you hired for a crew, that’ll be soon.” 

“The supplies you got for us on our stay at the previous island helped us greatly, (Y/N).” Adé added on, nodding his acknowledgement towards the woman beside him. She bowed her head as she smiled. “But they won’t last long.”

“I doubt you heard me.” Edward retorted, firmly holding the ship’s wheel as he made a fierce turn to the right. It sent (Y/N) and Adé scrambling backwards, holding onto the nearest railings that they could reach. (Y/N) watched as their crewmates above them almost fell from the rafters. She clenched her teeth as she regained her posture, sneering at the hot-tempered captain. “The map has helped me. I am doing my best to get us there. Don’t you know that this is tiring for me, too?”

“Perhaps, if you tried to study the map a bit longer than you can fuck a broad, then maybe -- just maybe -- you would have noticed the array of islands you passed that would’ve been perfect for docking.” She snapped back, uttering the first words that came to her head. Her teeth were grinding, watching the way as Edward indifferently treated the rest of them. Needing to give him a solid back-handed slap, she settled upon a verbal insult instead. She could see that it didn’t sit well with Edward, as he bared his teeth and turned to look at her with a threatening glower.

“Would you like to sail the damned ship then? If you could swallow the amount of shit you’re spewing out, maybe you’ll learn to keep quiet.”

(Y/N) let out a breathy laugh, incredulous to the way he was beginning to act. It was as if his lustful stares had never occured only mere moments ago. “Do you assume that you’re the only one who can sail a vessel around ‘ere? Before you kidnapped me, Kenway, I was aboard a ship for 5 years. Almost every fucking night, the crew would get shit-faced and I would have to be the one to lead them out of hurricanes. Don’t treat me as a damned child who can’t support herself, ya hear? Because I’ve spent a good part of my life pulling my weight in _gold_ , Captain Kenway.” 

Her tirade only seemed to vex him more so. “No one’s bloody asking you to stay. Hop off this boat then, if I tire you so fucking much!”

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you? I wasn’t the one begging for a spot on the boat anyways, Kenway! Do you recall the bloke who requested my stay on his legendary ship, the Jackdaw?” Edward rolled his eyes as (Y/N) put her hand to her ear, beckoning for him to respond. “Do you, Kenway?! My memory is beginning to falter!”

Before Edward was able to hiss something back at her, Adé put a stop to all of the nonsense. He pushed himself in between the two and distanced them away from each other. “Enough! You two act like children! We have more issues to take care of, and you two are here bickering over boat privileges, is that it?”

(Y/N) bit back her tongue from responding, turning her face away from the two as she gripped the banister until her knuckles paled. With the amount of force she was exerting, pressing her teeth into her tongue, one would have thought the thing to have fallen off by then.

“Edward, can we talk a moment about the condition of the ship? (L/N), you can come ‘ere to listen too, since you worry so damn much about your responsibilities on the Jackdaw.” (Y/N) shot him a scowl before pushing herself off the railing and walking to stand beside him. She hoped that the low winds could coolen her heated face, and in its process, cool down her heated disposition. 

“What’s the trouble, Adé?” Edward spoke finally, unwilling to face in their general direction. Never faltering or missing a beat, he chatted as if everything was fine. As if nothing had happened. (Y/N) did the same, to act as if she couldn’t give a damn, staring out towards the powerful waves before them that sent influxes of seawater up and onto their main deck.

“I had a walk about the gundeck earlier today, and I couldn’t stand for what I saw. A clutter of linstocks heaped like tinder… one with a slow match still burning!”

“Christ..” Edward uttered. (Y/N) could only grimace, and shake her head. This boat was fairly new, and the carelessness of the crew was staggering. If it were Vayne in charge, hearing of the crew ill-treating his vessel would give him life-endangering heart palpitations.

“And just nearby, two barrels of gunpowder, closer than bride and groom, fit to explode at the touch of a spark.”

“We’ll stow ours, Adé. Good and proper.” 

“Or else we risk losing the ship entirely,” (Y/N) remarked abruptly, pinching the bridge of her nose. Adé continued.

“As for the cannons… they might as well be tossed. Clogged touch-holes in need of scraping, corrosion on the bodies, barrel swabs as naked as knives, and breech-rope so rotten I could use them for knitting yarn.” 

“It’s _that_ bad on this bloody ship?” (Y/N) piped up in absolute disbelief. If the conditions she were hearing weren’t so damn horrendous, she would have remained silent. She straightened her hunched posture up again, her confidence somewhat restored after the brief dispute she had with Kenway. “The moral of this story seems to be that the Jackdaw needs good equipment, and it needs to stay that way. How in God’s name will we win a battle with snide remarks and our own shit as cannonballs?”

“We should worry about the armaments when we need to, but we cannot disregard the well being of the Jackdaw, as well.”

Edward, who had kept his gaze leveled on the seas and the wheel, conceded to their points. Still, little to no emotion was conveyed in his expression, nor in his words. “No, indeed. We’ll make a point to keep this ship and its crew in fine condition.”

Their conversation ended, and the sweet sounds of sea shanties from the others arose. The morning sky was beginning to become more apparent. The rise and fall of the ship had enough strength to topple anyone who didn’t have a strong footing on the deck. Abaco Island, which is what she presumed to be their next destination, was clear in sight. Its plentiful trees that appeared taller than their own ship stood proudly a measly distance away from them. Edward was able to successfully dock the vessel when they arrived close enough towards the island, completely turning the ship at a right angle and letting go of the wheel once he was satisfied. Without a farewell, he leaped up and over the railings of the boat and into the seas below. Adé and (Y/N) watched wordlessly as he began his swim towards the island.

“If you two hadn’t argued, he would have asked you to come along, you know.” Adé quipped, crossing his arms over his chest as (Y/N) bit her bottom lip in thought.

“I’ll have to apologize, won’t I? I acted rashly. I don’t know why I did it. Perhaps I needed a way to express my feelings, no matter who I would hurt in the process.” 

“Was it jealousy?”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “No, no… I wish it was, though. It’s possible that the feeling of jealousy would be easier to bring up than the actual emotions subsided in me.” The emotions of hopelessness, and the desire to belong. The want to have a place to stand firmly, without needing the help of others to bring up her again. 

She missed Vayne, most of all. And her previous ship, where she knew her place and position without feeling the incertitude she feels now. It would take a while for (Y/N) to begin to adjust to the new environment that was the Jackdaw at sea. For now, she would have to argue and laugh and cry and drink her way into the new setting, just as she did for the Sea Princess such a long time ago.

Adé was the first to greet Edward when he returned back to the ship. His small departure had him carrying a variety of items, from ocelot bones to a weathered map of the island he just came from. (Y/N) stayed behind, still mute. She didn’t feel like it was in her right to greet a man so soon when she insulted him so heartlessly.

“Ahoy, Captain. Find what you need?”

“My needs and wants are oceans apart, mate. But I did fashion myself a new holster,” He widened his arms and showed it off to Adé, who nodded his approval. “All I need now is a pistol to lie in it.”

(Y/N) reached into her boot, and took out the pistol she kept in there for safekeeping. She twirled it in her hand, before holding it out before Edward. “Here. It’s the least I can do for acting so ill-advised.” Edward took the moment to stare at her for a few seconds, a bit of skepticism lingering in his gaze, before graciously accepting her gift. He surveyed it briefly, inspecting its sides and closing an eye to test its aim.

An eventual hum was his reply, beginning to pocket the pistol as one of his own. “It’s a little more than a blow-pipe... but it’ll do.” 

“Aye. It’s old, what can I say?” (Y/N) shrugged simply, returning her arms back to her sides. Edward pressed his lips together, not saying a word as he turned back towards the ship’s helm. He didn’t keep her gaze for long, and it relieved her. Would it be wrong to feel a bit remorseful, despite it all? For him to meet her eyes and feel that same light-hearted conduct he had for her when they first met?

He was painting her a picture with his true colors. It would soon be her choice to enjoy or disregard such a masterpiece.

“So, are we rested? Or shall we idle a while longer?”

His words sounded distant. The guilt that compiled within her ribcage made her chest seem tighter. An apathetic apology was the least of what Edward deserved.

“Best weigh anchor.” Adé advised, making sure (Y/N) was following him as they made their way back up. “I think the crew is itching to reach civilization.”

“Itching to sleep in a bed that ain’t a barrel,” (Y/N) mumbled, cracking her back with a satisfying pop. “That’s for sure.”

“You’ll find no civilization in Nassau. But it’s a fine place to be merry all the same.” He glanced over to (Y/N) and Adé, who were sending him knowing looks. He flashed a wink back at them (Y/N felt as if it were more towards Adé than her), before he readied the ship to set sail once more. It didn’t take long for the anchor to be lifted, and Edward was eager to get moving, like they all were. The waves felt restless as they always have been, underneath their feet. 

She retreated back towards the edge of the quarterdeck, casually leaning backwards onto the railings. Her chin raised slightly as she closed her eyes, feeling the sweet scent of sea salt tingling in her nostrils and the wind cooling the highs of her cheeks. She adjusted the hat atop her head, feeling a sting surround her lips. The sun, mixed with the constant exposure to the ocean’s salt, was sucking the water right out of her, making it known to her whenever she went to lick her lips. 

For a moment, as she watched Edward take control of the Jackdaw, she wondered if there was even a need to belong. They were pirates, nomadic ocean voyagers who looted and cheated and lied their way to get to the top. They knew nothing of what a home was, but what a family was. With hers lost to the Spaniards, she wondered if it would be worth assimilating into the crew. She knew something would have to motivate her into doing so -- perhaps, Edward when they reconciled and began sharing drunken stories again. Or Adé when she needed his wisdom the most.

She didn’t know what she wanted. If she did, she wouldn’t feel so worried to go where they were heading. She would embrace it wholeheartedly, even if Edward ignored her completely as they went. Is that what she wanted? Or did she want the freedom of the open seas again? A friend again? The chance to act as careless and promiscuous as she pleased without feeling scared of the repercussions that followed? It felt like a desire to obtain all of it at once, and she wanted them quickly without the cruelty of time working against her. 

She wanted to hang upside-down from the sails again, to let her hair flow freely with the wind, and to laugh until her sides felt as if they were ripping open. A small part of her wanted to speak with her family again. Happiness was what she once felt with them, when she was younger and still naive of the world. At times, she thought of her brothers and her mother, who did their best to try and shape her into the respectable woman who was destined to a life of marriage, children, and hospitality. They tried, time and time again, to make (Y/N) see the world for how it was; a place of pattern. Society’s pattern. You lived, you found your place in life, and you died. 

The stress and worry to find her place was the one thing that prevented her from truly becoming happy. In London, she worried too much that she wouldn’t be a good daughter or sister. Now, she worried that she wasn’t a good-enough pirate. She trained, cried, and sweat until Vayne could see her as such. On the inside, it just didn’t feel that way for her.

(Y/N) longed to be as free as the ship she was standing on; to ride past the waves and skies without a care or compromise. To sing and dance and meet people who would change her life. Although it was proving to be an unsteady first step, she wanted to make sure that her second would be formidable. 

Sick of feeling worried, that sounded right. She was sick of feeling herself go mad with concerns and disturbances that did nothing but stunt her development of the person she was meant to be. When they reached Nassau, (Y/N) wanted to prove to Edward, to _everyone_. that she wasn’t the indignant, vexed pirate that was so consumed with her own self-image that it prevented her from feeling the spectrum of emotions life had in store for her.

It may be possible that in her quest to find her true happiness, she will find a friend like Scotty again. To find a father figure like Captain Vayne. To find a sense of recklessness and joy that she felt with her crew on the Sea Princess.

Perhaps, she will find the golden opportunity to love a person with all the passion she could muster. She will learn to love as relentlessly as the waves hit the shore, with utmost fervor and unabating obsession. When the time comes, she knows that she will be more at peace then.

For now, she pulled over a crate to sit on, and rested the back of her head on the ship’s refined balusters. For the first time in a long time, she felt somewhat content with the inner turmoil brewing within her soul that threatened to tear her apart. Instead of fighting against it, she might as well work with it to convert her wants into her needs. To let the waves guide her every step of the way.

During that moment on the Jackdaw, she was foolish in thinking that the waves were the ones leading the way into definite euphoria. Rather, it was another type of unyielding force that was so similar to her in behavior. It took her a while to piece everything together, and a lot of hardship along the way.

**Author's Note:**

> just to add a bit more clarification on the story : the reader is part Spaniard and part British. this has its reasons, but i won't spoil them all now. this story will be long and, for the most part, complex and i think it would be helpful to read through the parts w/o our favorite characters to get a feel for the reader and their own past and struggles. 
> 
> any feedback would be greatly appreciated. <3


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